Alastor Moody and the World of Magic
by The Wild Stark
Summary: Follow the young Alastor Moody from the slums of 1910s Dublin as he discovers magic and begins to attend Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I am poor.

**Alastor Moody and the World of Magic**

**Chapter 1**

Alastor pushed his sister back into the shadows as he heard someone approaching. Sliding soundlessly out of their hiding place he crept towards the main dock. A sudden gust of wind blew in from the sea clearing the fog enough for him his cousin walking towards him.

"Howiya Seamus!" he called out softly. The boy turned towards him and Alastor waved him over. "Where's Catherine?" Seamus whispered as he reached Moody. "She's behind one of the crates over there; we were hiding till we were sure it was you."

As they walked back towards the crates Seamus pointed at a steam ship in the harbour, "That's the one, RMS Leinster. Goes to Liverpool. I'll light a bit of a fire to distract the watchman and then we can sneak aboard. You go get Cathy and get as close as you can, hide in one of the lifeboats towards the back." With that Seamus slipped away.

Alastor stuck his head around the crates and motioned to his sister. At eight Cathy was only two years younger than him but she was a lot smaller then he was. Grabbing their bundle he whispered to here, "Shay's gone to distract them. When they spot the fire we'll get on the boat." She gave him a nod and began to follow him. Within minutes they could see an orange glow through the fog and soon men were shouting.

Seamus came slinking out of the shadows just as the commotion began, "Has the watchman left yet?"

"I saw two men come off the boat just before you got here."

Alastor answered. "Right so. Make a run for it on three. Follow me when we get on. Alright there Cathy?" The youngest Moody nodded up at Seamus and tightened her grip on Alastor's sleeve. "One, two, three!"

Alastor slung the bundle of his and Cathy's things over his shoulder and took off towards the gangway, taking care not to run faster than Cathy could. The deck of the ship was deserted while the night watch helping put out the fire. Seamus seemed to know where they were going so they followed him across the deck and hid in the beckoned Alastor forward and pointed down the deck, "See the life boat hanging from the side? We'll hide in one o' them. I'll go untie the tarp and then youse come over when I whistle."

Without waiting for a response he stalked off into the shadows.

Alastor turned back to his sister, who was shivering in the November chill. He hugged her close to him to try and keep her warmer, and wished they'd thought to steal some clothes. He'd already given her his shirt and the only other clothes they had were his Da's. She could wear his coat once they were hidden, he decided, but until then it would be to risky to wear something that might trip her up and get them caught. A soft whistle pulled his attention back to the deck. He picked up his bundle prised Cathy of his sleeve, "You have to carry Seamus' bundle, I won't be able to carry both."

Slowly the eased out of the shadows and crept down towards the life boat, the clouds had blocked out the moonlight but he had always had good eyes and could pick out enough to reach the end of the boat with the untied tarp.

He lifted his bundle up to the opening and whispered into the dark "Shay, I'm passing our things in. Then I'll give Cathy a boost up." A whispered "Grand so." Came out of the dark and he felt Seamus take the weight of the bundle. Quickly he passed in Shay's stuff and the lifted Cathy up onto the edge of the boat. Seamus helped her down into the boat and then Alastor lifted himself up and dropped down into the dark.

He dropped down onto Seamus who let him out a muffled "Shite! You feckin eejit Al." After they untangled themselves Alastor fumbled around until he managed to get his father coat out of the bundle and draped it over Cathy. Having seen to his sister as best he could Alastor wrapped one of his father's shirts around himself as best he could, that done he leaned back and whispered to Seamus "What now?"

"The ship leaves early in the morning, we should be in Liverpool tomorrow night. I brought some of my Da's letters so you can read his address, we'll find him that way." If there had been any light Seamus would have enjoyed the faces Alastor pulled as that sentence jogged his memory.

"Shay, you can't read."

"I know." Came his cousins exasperated retort.

"Shay, if you can read how do you know we're on the right ship?"

"I'm not dim Al, I asked one of the sailors which boat the RMS Leinster was yesterday."

Alastor let out a sigh of relief. A sound made both of the tense up before they realised it came from inside the boat. "Are you still awake Cathy? Alastor asked. "Mmmh" came the response, although Alastor could almost hear her nodding, she was a lot quitter than his brother Connor had been. "Can't sleep" Cathy murmured. Seamus moved around a bit and then very quietly began to sing a lullaby.

_In early spring when small birds sing and the lambs sport and play,_

_My way I took, my friends forsook and I came to Kingstown Quay,_

_I entered as a passenger and to England sailed away,_

_I bid farewell to all my friends and left the shamrock shore._

"I think she's asleep now Al."

"Al? - Great everyone's asleep but me. Who's going to sing me to sleep?"

"Shut up Seamus!"

* * *

><p>The movement of the steam ship jerked Alastor awake early in the morning. Carefully he called out to check if the others were awake, Shay was sleeping but he woke him to make sure that they all stayed quite until they were out at sea. The life boat was warmer than before but it was also becoming quite stuffy.<p>

The ship began to move and after a while he could feel it leave the harbour. The ship began to roll back and forth and within minutes Shay had crawled away from them to be sick. He had no way of telling the time but once he was sure they were out at sea he untied part of the tarp on the sea-side of the boat to let some fresh air in.

The journey was cramped and uncomfortable although Alastor was sure that it was far worse for Seamus than for him. Shay spent the entire journey groaning and retching further down the boat. After a while he took out some of the bread they had brought and he and Cathy each had a chunk. Seamus had few sips of porter they'd brought but didn't risk eating the bread. Cathy fell asleep a while after eating and that left Alastor alone to brood.

The last letter they'd had from his Uncle Finn had been months ago, before his Da had died, and none of them had seen Finn for two years. Still Shay was certain they would find his father and some of that confidence seemed to have rubbed of onto Alastor. They'd thought about crossing after his Dad died in the rebellion in April but decided to try and wait until Seamus turned fifteen in two years so he could get proper work.

That had been when they were still getting money from Connor, but his older brother had died in France two months earlier and his army wages had stopped coming. So now they were going to find his uncle. Cathy probably wouldn't even remember him, she barely remembered Connor. She had only been four when they had left.

At some point he fell asleep and when the sound of the ships horn woke him it was getting dark outside again. The came into dock and as night began to fall properly they managed to creep of the boat undetected. They stopped on the docks while they waited for Seamus' stomach to settle.

After a few minutes Shay stood up and motioned them onwards. They slept in an alleyway close to the dock that night, well hidden and with the boys taking turns to stay up, still the night past uneventfully and sleeping rough didn't seem to bad after growing up in the Church Street Slums.

As soon as it was bright enough to read Alastor started looking Uncle Finn's letters to find addresses. The last one was eight months old but in it Finn said he was staying in an inn called 'The Baltic Fleet' in Merseyside. Seamus traded one of their bottles of porter for directions from a tramp and they found the inn before midday.

The inn was a thin tall building and they entered to find it deserted apart from an old sailor sleeping in the corner and a greasy haired bar tender wiping down some tankards. The bar tender looked up when they entered and Seamus went straight to the bar, doing his very best to act confident he peered up at the bartender, "I'm looking for my Da, I think he lives here."

The bartender gave a grunt "Well, who's your dad boy?" Looking slightly relieved that the bartender was open to further questioning Shay hopped onto a stool, "He's called Finnbar Brogan. From Dublin. He said he was living here in his letters." Alastor spoke up from his spot near the door, "He said he lived at the Baltic Fleet Inn in his last letter. That was in March."

The bar keep looked thoughtful for a moment or two before speaking hesitantly, "We had an Irish fella here for a few months. Big Finn, 'e was called."

Shay smiled up at him, "That'd be him, sure."

The bartender smiled down at them, "Good man, Big Finn. You've missed him but. Left 'bout three months ago. Went down to London, there's supposed to be work on the Underground." Looking at their dismayed faces, the barkeeper flashed a reassuring smile, "You should be able to find him. He worked with some of the London and North Western boys."

Seeing their blank looks the bartender elaborated, "The train company runs all the way down to London so they see him from time to time. I usually have a few of them here in the evening so if you hang about you can ask 'em tonight."

Happy enough with the news they settled down into a corner. When Cathy began complaining she was hungry Shay and Alastor managed to convince the bartender to let them do some washing up in exchange for lunch.

The bar tender was a friendly man but a bit quite. They talked a bit to him while they worked. He was called Thomas Snape, and he'd moved to Liverpool from his hometown of Cokeworth fourteen years earlier, where his brothers worked in a factory. He was saving money to buy a house back in Cokeworth and move there with his wife.

As it began to fill up in the afternoon Thomas had them stop working and they sat in the back of the pub for a few hours. Seamus played with Cathy while Alastor practised reading. He read a pamphlet called 'Labour in Irish History', one the last things he had left from his dad. They'd had to sell most of his things. He'd read it many times before and before he could read his Da had read it to him. He still didn't understand it but he knew that it was written by James Connolly who had been in the rebellion where Da died.

It was getting dark outside when a man in overalls with a coal-blackened face came over, "Snape there says your Big Finn's wains[1]? Johnny Quigley by the way." He said holding out a hand.

Shay leaned forward and shook his hand, "I'm Seamus Brogan, Finn's me Da. These are my cousins Alastor and Catherine Moody. You from the north then?" Quigley gave a wide and toothless grin, "Aye, from Donegal. Been here near eight years now but the accent still gives me away."

He paused for a long swig of ale, "I saw your Da about two months back in London, settling in well, workin' as a navvy now. If ye have the coin there's a train to London every morning, else you'll have to wait till two days 'till Thursday. I'm headin' down to London then so ye could come with me then?"

Alastor felt the money carefully hidden the seams of his shirt, "We've only got a shilling and sixpence, can we get to London?" The man looked down at them kindly, "That'd barely get you to Manchester lad. Ye can come with me on Thursday. I'm guessin' ye haven't any place to sleep?"

They nodded to him, "Arra, ye can come with me tonight, I sleep in an empty freights car while I'm travelling but it's better the nowt."

The rail car was certainly better than an alleyway and after a couple of days of watching trains pass by they were ready to go. They were spending the journey in the car they slept in while Quigley, who was the train's fireman, stayed in the locomotive with the driver, a Welshman called Davies.

* * *

><p>[1] Wain is slang for child in the some parts of the north of Ireland (like Donegal).<p>

**Author's Note:**

**Firstly I would of course appreciate feedback. I like this as an idea for a story and I think very little has been done with his charaacter (a pity given that he filled Azkaban more or less single-handedly) so please let me know if you think I should continue it. **

Secondly I've made one main change to canon so far, which is that instead of Moody being a pure-blood from a long line of aurors he's a muddle-born wizard.

Thirdly (is that a word?) I have made two changes to implied canon. Mainly his age, Moody is now born in 1907, making him 9 in 1916 and 90 at the time of his death. This makes him 26 years younger than Dumbledore, and I think that's very reasonable (old wizards live to about 150 so lets say that 150 is like 90 for us so Moody in his 90s is like a normal person in there early 60s (around when people retire) So that all makes sense. The second change is that Moody is Irish, while the the actor is Irish the Harry Potter wiki says he is Scottish because he wears a kilt at the Yule Ball and Moody is a Scottish name. I'll point out that Moody is a common surname in Ireland to, and that some Irish people wear kilts (some Ulster Scots for example).

**Chapter Note:**

I like to do these for the nerdiest and most pedantic of people, such as myself, to explain bits and pieces about the chapter.

This chapter takes place in 1916 in the middle of WW1. Moody's dad has died in the Easter Rising (an Irish nationalist rebellion) and his brother has died fighting in France in the British army.

My fictional characters, Michael and Connor Moody (father and brother to our Moody) and Finn Brogan (uncle), all to part in the historical Dublin lockout and strikes of 1914 which lead to a large number of working class Dubliners being blacklisted and unable to find work. Because of this Michael Moody is unemployed until his death, Connor joins the army at the outbreak of the war so his pay goes to his family and Finn emigrates to find work in England.

The RMS Leinster was a steam boat that carried mail and passengers across the Irish sea until it was torpedoed by a u-boat in October 1918 (I was going to put them on that journey but it seemed a bit harsh).

The Baltic Fleet is a real pub in Liverpool at least 400 years old.

Thomas Snape is Severus Snapes muggle grandfather.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alastor Moody and the World of Magic**

**Chapter 2**

Life Uncle Finn wasn't too bad, Alastor thought as he walked back from the Rotherhithe docks, he'd saved up a few pence and was going to buy himself something special for his birthday tomorrow. They had arrived in London almost five weeks earlier and found Finn living in a tenement in Southwark not far from the Charing Cross Embankment underground station.

Seamus worked with his dad at Embankment Station where they were clearing up and rebuilding a few of the deeper tunnels which had flooded and collapsed because they were too close to the Thames. Cathy went to a nearby school in the mornings and helped Mrs Sharpe downstairs with the housework during the afternoons. Alastor could already read and knew his numbers but wasn't old enough to work in the tunnels so he pick-pocketed on the Northbank some days.

Today he'd gone down to see the injured soldiers come back from France. There were usually a few boys around the wharves when soldiers came home. Some of them would carry the injured men's bags and hope for some money in return but a lot of the just went to watch the crippled veterans like some sort of freak show.

Alastor would run amongst the disembarking soldiers looking for men with elephants on their regimental badges, "Anyone a Blue Cap[1]? Was anyone in the Royal Dublin Fusiliers?" he'd ask as he slipped between the soldiers. The Irish wounded sometimes past through on their way home and he'd met a man who fought with his brother at Gallipoli two weeks earlier. The soldier hadn't known him well but they'd been in the same battalion.

There hadn't been any today and he was making his way back home as it got dark. He arrived back later than normal running up the stairs so he wouldn't miss his supper, he burst into the bigger room they had and found Mrs Sharpe sitting at the table with two men. He recognised one of them as a man who worked with Finn. The other man stood up and took of his hat, "Mr Moody?" he asked.

His face was grave and Alastor tried to think of something he could be in trouble for. "Your uncle" he paused and glanced at Mrs Sharpe, who gave him a small nod, the man resumed, "I was your uncle's overseer. He and your uncle were caught in a tunnel collapse earlier today. Neither of them made it out. My condolences for your loss." He turned and walked towards the door.

The other man, Mick if Alastor remembered, came over to him. "Sorry 'bout your uncle boy. Me and the lads had a whip for ye. One shilling threepence." Mick held the coins out. "Overseer Johnson" he jerked his head at the waiting man, "wouldn't pay a day's wages to a dead man. It should be more but there were five others in the tunnel with them." He turned and followed the overseer out of the room.

Alastor stood there for a few moments before looking at the door until he remembered Mrs Brown was there, "Does Cathy know?" he asked. She shook her head, "I sent her to the sleeping room when they arrived. I'll go fix you some dinner." Alastor went through to the bedroom and found Cathy crying in one of the corners. She was in the habit of listening to what was going on in the other room so he just sat down and held her. He wondered if he should feel sadder but he just felt numb inside. They stayed huddled together in the corner until they fell asleep.

* * *

><p>The next morning he spoke to Mrs Sharpe about their rooms, he wasn't old enough to find work as a labourer and they wouldn't be able to pay rent four two rooms with only him working anyway. Mrs Sharpe said that Finn had already paid for the weeks rent. With the money Mick had brought them they could have paid another weeks rent but Alastor knew from experience that their money would be better spent on food than on shelter.<p>

Mrs Sharpe cooked for them again and Alastor used his birthday money to get him and Cathy some sweets. He knew he shouldn't waste his money but he figured they could use a distraction, no matter how small and he decided to go out and see what he could nick [2] the next day.

The morning after his birthday Alastor went out early and bought some bread and milk back for Cathy. After taking a few bites himself he walked down to Charing Cross Station and climbed up a wall so he could watch the crowds in hope of an easy target. After about half an hour he spotted a tall old man in an expensive looking top hat and tails.

Having chosen his mark he waited until he saw which entrance the man was making for. By the time he made his way through the crowds the man was some way ahead of him, careful not to go fast enough to look suspicious. He gained on the man slowly and was only about twenty yards behind his mark turned right onto the Charing Cross Road opposite Trafalgar Square, as the passed the National Gallery he got close enough to make his move.

Now he was closer he could see that the man was dressed somewhat eccentrically although his clothes were unmistakeably expensive. 'Who' Alastor thought to himself, 'wore a purple top hat?' The man was had nearly reached the Leicester Square Station and Alastor decided that he make his move just after the station, there was an alleyway that he'd be able to disappear down before the man knew anything had happened.

Quickly he crossed the road and overtook the man, when he was far enough ahead he crossed back over so he was walking towards the man, he'd knock into him Alastor decided, and then he'd grab what he could and take of down through the back streets.

As he approached him he began to count down in his head,

ten, nine, eight . . .

he saw the man pull back the edge of his coat and jiggle a leather pouch

. . . seven, six . . .

he was close enough he heard the jingle of coins from the pouch

. . . five, four . . .

an unusual way to keep ones money, he thought, still if he was any judge that pouch was pretty full, it'd should last them a few weeks

. . . three, two.

Just before he made contact the man veered right into the door of a shop. Not one to give up easily Alastor looked for a good spot to wait. Most shops between Leicester Square station and Tottenham Court Road were bookshops; he could wait for that much coin.

Alastor backed away from the building until he could see the sign above it, 'The Leaky Cauldron', a pub then. Still it was quite early in the morning so the man couldn't spend long in a pub. Also a man as well dressed as that couldn't have much business in such a shabby place. He settled down to wait on some steps a few buildings along with a good view of the door.

He waited a bit more than three hours, keeping track by the bells of the nearby St Patrick's Church. He kept an eye on the passers bye as well but didn't spot a more promising victim. Eventually as it approached two o'clock Alastor got impatient. After four hours in a pub there was a good chance the man would be drunk or dozing, he could probably just walk in a snag the pouch.

He opened the door and saw the pub was almost empty, quietly he shut the door. Through an archway to his right was a bar with an old man cleaning something behind it. Moving quietly so as not to attract his attention he passed through an archway to the left and found a room full of tables and benches with seats hollowed out from the walls. Towards the back he saw the man he had been following, as he suspected the man had drunk too much and was taking a nap. The money pouch sat tantalisingly on the table.

He had just moved towards the man's table and was reaching out to take his prize when he heard a movement behind him, almost instantly he spun around in a crouch. "Wouldn't touch that if I were you."

A boy around his edge had just dropped out of an alcove near the door. He looked about Alastor's age, though he was slightly taller and had messy dark brown hair.

"It's cursed. That's Dalmatius Diggle; he falls asleep here so of often he's taken to cursing his possessions so people don't make off with them. Not that that's what you were doing. I'm Charlus Potter by the way."

The boy held out a hand. Alastor shook it uncertainly but didn't give his name.

"Don't believe in that sort of shite. Curses and whatnot." He mumbled. The boy, Potter, seemed to flinch a little when he swore - probably wasn't use to it, he did have a posh accent – and looked at Alastor like he was daft at the last part.

He opened his mouth, closed it again, looked Alastor up and down, taking in his oversized and threadbare clothing. He seemed to come to some sort of decision. "Ah, you're a . . . that is to say you don't know . . . Just a sec." He turned towards the archway Alastor had come through and gave a yell, "Harrius! Harrius would you come here?"

Alastor crouched slightly and shifted his weight trying to gauge whether or not he could make it out without being caught. Potter seemed to sense his unease and held up his hands, "Don't worry, I won't tell on you."

A man with the same messy hair as Potter came in, although his was black. He looked to be in his early thirties, perhaps Potter's father, Alastor speculated. He crouched down at Potter's gesture and the boy whispered something in his ear, gesturing at Alastor. After a few moments the man approached Alastor and held out a hand, "I'm Charlie's brother, Harrius, but call me Harry. Everyone does."

Alastor shook his hand, "I'm Alastor Moody."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance Mr Moody. Are you here with your parents?" Harry asked. Moody shook his head.

"Where are your parents?"

"Gone."

Harry looked at him awkwardly, "I see. Have a seat Mr Moody."

Alastor seated himself opposite the man but kept his eyes trained on the floor. "How old are you Mr Moody?"

"Eleven yesterday."

"You haven't been in England long?" Alastor looked up at the man suspiciously, "No, a bit over a month."

"Right, typical of the bloody Ministry. Well, what I'm about to say may come as a bit of a shock then Mr Moody."

* * *

><p><strong>Glossary:<strong>

[1] 'The Blue Caps' was a nickname for the Royal Dublin Fusiliers, they also had an elephant in their regimental badge. In WW1 they fought at Gallipoli in Turkey and moved to France in 1916.

[2] Not certain if this gets used in the US, but in Britain and Ireland 'nick' can be used as slang for steal.

**Author's Note:**

I've changed the title. I was intending to do one epic story covering Moody's life until the end of the first Voldemort War. I've decided to split it into a series using the Harry Potter title format, so it'll be 'Alastor Moody and X'. I'm not overjoyed with 'the World of Magic so suggestions are welcome.

Also please let me know what you think and if I should keep it up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Alastor Moody and the World of Magic**

**Chapter 3**

After a suitable number of demonstrations and curses – Alastor got the impression the Potters weren't used to his sort of language – he decided to accept magic for the time being. The older Potter brother seemed to recognise this, "I'm sure you have many questions Mr Moody, and I will be happy to answer them but we should get you down to the ministry to sort you out."

"Sort me out?" Alastor grimaced. Harry had stood and was putting on his coat, "You seem to have slipped through a crack in the system Mr Moody. If you follow me we'll head down to the Ministry offices in Whitehall and get you sorted. Charlus, fetch your coat." Harry held the door open for him and then they waited for Charlus to catch up. As they started walking back down towards Charing Cross Alastor figured he should find out what exactly was happening to him.

"What do you mean, slipped through a crack?" The older Potter shortened his stride to match the boys and began to explain.

"Well, avoiding the complexities of magical law here is how it would normally work: a wizard or witch born in Britain would be automatically registered with the Ministry of Magic of the Union. When they turned eleven they would receive a letter inviting them to attend Hogwarts, a school of magic. Like Charlus here did in November. If a wizard is born in Ireland, hold on. Charlus, you should have learnt this by now, what happens to Irish wizarding children."

The younger Potter pulled a face at Alastor before begging what was clearly a rote citation.

"When Hogwarts was founded in 990 AD the school itself tracked down Muggle-born students while Wizarding families chose whether or not to send their own children. At the time Ireland functioned entirely separately and there was no contact except between Viking ports like Dublin and Viking towns like York. After the Norman invasion of Ireland the Treaty of Man was signed by High King Rory O'Connor and King Henry II in 1178. The treaty agreed that Hogwarts would not recruit students from Ireland allowing Irish Wizards to keep their Druidic culture."

Charlus looked up at his brother. Harry gave a nod of approval, "Correct, some Irish students choose to attend Hogwarts but they must apply rather than getting an invitation. You Mr Moody were born in Ireland so you were not registered to receive a Hogwarts letter, but you left shortly before your eleventh birthday so you didn't receive a letter from one of the Druidic schools. If you hadn't found the Cauldron you might never have found out you were a wizard."

They walked in silence for a few minutes while Alastor assimilated the new information. After a while he decided on his next question, "So this, this magic, it runs in families?"

"To a point, there a Muggle-born wizards like yourself, Mr Moody, who are first generation wizards, but for the most part magical children have magical parents." Alastor hesitated, feeling uneasy.

"Another question, Mr Moody?" Harry pushed.

"I have a sister, Cathy, she's seven. What if . . . if she's not . . ."

"We can have her tested once you're sorted out. Turn here boys." Harry indicated pointed down towards Whitehall. They crossed the road and he held the door of an inn called the Clarence for them. As he was ushered towards the back of the room Moody began to feel very out of place. While he was used to places like the run-down Leaky Cauldron this place was full of elegantly dressed men, likely government men who worked in Whitehall Moody guessed.

Harry lead them into a bathroom and held open the door of a stall with a broken toilet, "Stand in the toilet and flush, it'll take you to the ministry." Noting Alastor's look of scepticism he turned to his brother, "Here James you go first." The younger Potter stood obligingly in the toilet and disappeared when Harry pulled the flusher.

"In you get Mr Moody, this will take you to the Ministry atrium, I'll be down right behind you."

Alastor stepped into the toilet, barely had time to register that for some reason his shoes weren't getting wet when the room seemed to spin around him, and found himself in front of a large fireplace. Charlus pulled him forwards and he was barely out of the fireplace when Harry appeared behind him.

With a muttered, "Stay close now." Harry was off, across the hall. They made for the far end of the room, which Moody could tell was huge, although it was quite crowded and he was to short to be able to see anything but people. They came out of the crowd in front of a desk with security written above it.

Harry leaned forward onto the desk and gave the witch a wide smile, "Afternoon Ags!" The witch fixed him with a glare and his smile faded a bit, "That's Auror Longbottom to you Mr Potter. Please state the purpose of your visit to the Ministry."

Alastor didn't hear Harry's response because Charlus leaned over and whispered in his ear, "That's Agrippina Longbottom, she went to Hogwarts with Harry and he fancies her." Before Alastor could think of an appropriate response Harry turned back to him and handed him a badge, "Here, as a guest you have to wear one of these." It was a small silver badge with 'Alastor Moody, Wizarding Registration' inscribed on it.

They continued to a row of four elevator doors and Harry pushed the button for going upwards. Charlus began to chant "Harry fancies Agie!" just quietly enough for his brother to hear. Without turning around Harry said, "If you don't stop I might have to go and tell Agrippina what you did next time she's visiting." Shutting his brother up effectively.

The lift arrived with two men in odd purple uniforms, embroidered with a 'W' on the breast and a crest in the centre. Alastor and the Potters got in and Harry greeted the two men, "Cygnus. Tiberius. Wizengamot business?" The younger man, who had long black hair and grey eyes, looked their group over and gave Harry a nod and a curt greeting of "Potter." Before pointedly ignoring them.

The older man, who a brown hair and an elegant moustache greeted Harry warmly.

"Harrius and young Charlus! Visiting your father? He'll be up in the Wizengamot offices already. I saw him leave a few minutes ago. He's in a good mood as well."

"What was the vote?" Harry asked.

"There was a movement to repeal the Minister's 'Non Participation War Legislation'."

"Fools!" grunted the rude man, Cygnus.

"Yes, quite." Tiberius agreed, "Still it was a tight vote, the Light Liberals want to intervene to stop the Muggles slaughtering each other and the darker elements of the Magical Freedoms Faction think intervention will give them an excuse for muggle-hunting. My father is still dealing with the fallout from the Easter Rising in Ireland so I'm voting in his place."

The lift doors opened and a voice rang out "Level 2. Wizengamot Offices and Department of Law Enforcement including Auror Headquarters, Misuse of Magic Office and Auror-Police Liaison Office." [1] Alastor followed the Potters and the other two men out of the lift.

They were in a pentagonal room with the lifts on the side they'd just come out of and a door in each of the others. Cygnus grunted goodbye and disappeared through the door to the left, which had a three red lions on it and 'English Wizengamot Offices' written over it. After a little small talk Tiberius left through the door on the far write (which had a golden harp and Irish Wizengamot Offices on it).

Alastor followed the Potters through the door to the right of Cygnus' with a red dragon on the frosted glass and 'Welsh Wizengamot Offices' engraved above the door in golden letters. They entered a hallway with eight doors, each marked with a coat of arms. They past doors with Bulstrode and Flint on their left and Yaxley and Rowle on the right before stopping in front of a door with a black bear brandishing a sword and banner coat of arms. The gold lettering on the door said 'Lord Jacobus of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter'.

"This is my father's office; he's head of House Potter and part of the Wizarding government. He'll be able to get you registered."

No wonder they seemed unused to rough language Alastor thought, he'd stumbled upon the Magical nobility. Harry knocked once and opened the door. The occupant of the office stood up as they entered, he was taller either of his sons and had a long black beard and a chest like barrel. His eyes seemed friendly above his beard and he had a loud booming voice, "Ah! My handsome sons, to what do owe the unexpected pleasure?"

Alastor stayed silent while Harry explained the situation. Lord Potter sat back down in his seat and motioned for Alastor to sit down. "Alright then, we'll have you sorted out in a jiffy young Alastor."

His tone became business like and he turned to his sons, "Harrius go down to the Department for the Regulation of Magical Beings and get someone from the Wizarding Citizenship Office, Charlus run over to the Irish Wizengamot Offices and get an Irish Lord. Strictly speaking we should have an Irish Lord witness since Mr Moody here is Irish. Where are you from Mr Moody?"

"Dublin, your Lordship."

"Hmm normally you'd automatically be sponsored by Lord Carrow but he has rather . . . extreme views on blood purity. It'll be better for your in the future if we get you a neutral patron. Charlus see if you can get Lord Kerwin, or if he's not in get De Lacy."

While Charlus scampered of to find one of them Lord Potter turned his attention back to the confused Moody.

"Normally a Muggle-born wizard finds themselves a sponsor from the Lords of the Wizengamot after coming of age. It's not compulsory but the influence of a sponsor is required to succeed in our world, to secure an apprenticeship or study for a Mastery for example. As an orphan you would automatically be sponsored by the nearest Lord to your place of birth on entering our world. As I said Lord Carrow would usually fill this role but this might not be desirable. Lord Kirwin is a neutral Lord in the Wizengamot and will this will help you keep your options open."

There was a knock on the door and a short, lithe man with gray red hair and a beard entered. He wearing what Alastor now identified as Wizengamot robes, his with three black ravens arrayed around a wand and when he caught Alastor's eye Alastor was reminded of the sly fox in the children's stories his mother used to tell. Charlus slipped back into the room behind him.

Lord Potter shook hands with the man and then gestured for Alastor to stand up, "Alastor Moody, meet Lord Connor Mór of House Kerwin. Lord Kerwin, Alastor is an orphaned muggle-born wizard from Dublin who arrived shortly before his eleventh birthday."

Potter paused to allow Lord Kerwin to fully grasp the implications the situation, after a surprisingly short interval Kerwin nodded, "And you don't want to involve Carrow?" There was another knock as Harry returned with a Ministry official. After a quick explanation the Ministry official, Lord Potter and Lord Kerwin all signed some forms and the official left again. That done Lord Kerwin asked Alastor to come back to his office with him.

They walked in silence until they arrived in Kerwin's office the Lord seated himself and stared at Alastor for a few moments as though sizing him up.

"Where did you grow up Mr Moody?"

"Church Street, sir. In Dublin."

Kerwin gave a snort, "When did you discover you were a wizard?"

"This afternoon, sir."

"Are you literate?"

"I can read and I know my numbers, sir."

"That is something I suppose. I understand you have a sister. Do you live on the streets?"

"No sir, we live in a tenement." Alastor explained his living circumstances and the recent death of his uncle while Kerwin nodded along.

Once Lord Kerwin finished interrogating him he began to explain how sponsorship would work.

"As an orphan you will live in the Harold Abbott Home for Magical Orphans here in London when not at school until you come of age. That is to say until you turn seventeen. Your sister will do the same unless she is non-magical in which case she will attend a muggle school and live as a squib at the orphanage. The orphanage is home to a number of muggle-born orphans who are wards of the Abbott, Kerwin and Macmillan families. Until you begin at Hogwarts and during the summers you will attend classes and participate in activities with my children, of which there are two, and with the children and wards of the allied Houses.

In return you are expected to support House Kerwin in later life, and can expect to receive continuing support from House Kerwin. For example if you start a business you can expect House Kerwin to lend you money free of interest if I judge it likely to succeed, however if you gain a Ministry position you will be expected to represent the interests of the House within the government. No doubt you have further questions but it is getting late. I suggest we go and get your sister and possessions. Tonight you will stay in my London residence and tomorrow morning I'll bring the pair of you to the orphanage."

Still attempting to process the experiences of the last few hours Alastor did nothing but nod and follow Lord Kirwin from the office.

* * *

><p>[1] Some of you may be so obsessive as to point out that this isn't what JKR says is own the 2nd floor. I am aware and have deliberately changed this because government evolves over time - compare the structure of the British government or US government in 1917 to now.<p>

**Author's Note:**

**It's a long note but it's worth reading because it'll help you understand stuff later. Particularly how my Wizengamot works and to what extent Ireland (and therefore Moody) can be considered as part of Wizarding Britain. As always reviews are appreciated as are any ideas. If anyone has way to much free time I also have a family tree (currently consisting of 87 wizards and witches) showing the relationships between Jacobus and Harry as well as how all the 35 Noble Houses are interrelated. At this point it includes the Blacks, the Crouches, the De Lacys, the Greengrasses, the Kirwins, the Longbottoms, the Potters and the Weasleys (not a Noble House). It spans from 1789 to the 1990s.**

**Muggle-borns: **

As you can see the methods of introduction into the magical world are different then canon. Over the course of the story/series (I intend to cover until Voldemort's first defeat in 1981. This period will cover WW2, the Grindlewald situation and the rise of Voldemort. Throughout that period the Wizarding World will undergo a great deal of change and reform.

**The Wizengamot: **

I've restructured the Wizengamot so it contains 35 Noble Houses (13 English, 8 Scottish, 8 Welsh, 6 Irish) each of which has 7 seats (one for the Lord and others delegated to cadet branches or non-noble houses that are allies or relations through marriage). That means the Noble Houses have 245 seats in Wizengamot. The full WIzengamot is 300 seats with the remaining 55 being appointed by the Ministry (so seats for the Minister, for Department Heads, for the Headmaster of Hogwarts) once someone is appointed to a Ministry seat they have until death, resignation or they're convicted of a crime (so a new Minister can't pick 55 new members).

**Ireland:**

I've split Irish wizards into two groups: the native Irish and the _Hiberno-Normans_. The native Irish practice tradional _druidic_ magic. So they're spells are in Irish Gaelic not Latin and they attend their own schools. The _Hiberno-Normans_ are the settlers who came over during the Norman-English invasions. They are essentially the same as English wizards. Their magic and spells are the same (Latin based) and they traditionally attend Hogwarts. As I explained this is why Moody wasn't down for Hogwarts but also why Seamus Finnegan did attend. This is a result of the Treaty of 1178, between the High King of Ireland and the King of England (really between the Norman wizards and the Druids)

The 6 Irish Wizengamot seats represent the _Hiberno-Normans_. The_ Druids_ aren't represented in the Wizengamot. As a result of the Treaty there is a 'live and let live' policy. The _Druids_ aren't part of Magical Britain (not governed by the Ministry of Magic). The _Druids_ rule themselves as the seperate entity of _Druidic Ireland_ and the Ministry rules the _Hiberno-Normans_. The 6 Irish-Norman Noble Houses are:

- Athy, Burke (of Borgin & Burkes), Carrow (the Death Eater siblings), De Lacy, Joyce and Kirwin

**On the lifespan of wizards: **

- In my story wizards will age normally until the end of puberty (roundabout 18-21) which is necessary otherwise you'd be able to muggle-borns cause they'd be 15 but they'd appear to be 12.

- From the end of puberty to the age of 50 they are going through their equivalent of 20 -35. Traditionally pure-blood men marry at 45. (given the extended lifespans of wizards marrying young is ridiculous, if a 150 year old wizard is like a 100 year old muggle and James Potter married Lily Evans at the wizarding equivalent of 14. If people are longer lived they marry later. Such is logic.

- From the age of 60 wizards are considered middle-ages or fully grown adults. They can now vote in the Wizengamot, run for Minister etc.

- Around the edge of 100 they retire / become less active. (To old for an auror to work in the field, or to play quiditch, or do physical labour) I'd compare it to 60-65 for muggles.

- Finally around 130 they're starting to go senile. (Pack Granny up and stick her in a home) 80-85 for muggles.


	4. Chapter 4

**Alastor Moody and the World of Magic**

**Chapter 4  
><strong>

Alastor settled in to his new world quite quickly, while the orphanage might have seemed basic to some it was well above what he was used to. There were eleven boys and thirteen girls in the orphanage, they were all wards of House Kerwin or House Abbott although Alastor was the only one with sponsor – most Muggle-borns didn't find a sponsor until finishing their OWLS.

All the boys shared a single room and Alastor was currently the second oldest since everyone over the age eleven was at Hogwarts apart from a fourteen year old squib called Wellesley. Cathy was a squib as well but she didn't seem to mind too much. Alastor only saw her at meal times because boys and girls were kept mostly separate but when he did see her she seemed happy and had made a lot of friends.

In the mornings Alastor went to Muggle school with all the other children where he was learning reading, writing and maths. In the afternoons he was picked up by Lord Kerwin's thirty-seven year-old daughter Siobhan. They would floo to the Kerwin's Dublin Townhouse, and she would tutor him and Connor Óg, Lord Kerwin's ten year old son, in different aspects of the Wizarding world. Initially he had been far behind and she had just given him books on basic aspects of Magical society to read.

Fascinated by his new world Alastor finished these quickly and was soon being tutored Wizarding history and geography with Connor. The Wizarding world was very different from the Muggle world, he found out, comparing the geography he learnt at school to what Siobhan was teaching him. Since there was very little reliance on technology in the Wizarding world there had been very few successful attempts at colonisation.

Without superior technology European's had been unable to colonise Magical populations like their Muggle counterparts, when wizards had tried to colonise pieces of the New World they hadn't been able to subjugate the indigenous magic users. They either had to force them out or kill them off completely. That was why Druidic magic still existed in Ireland more than a thousand years after their muggle counter parts had there was no magical equivalent of the United States of America. The western U.S.A. and Canada formed the First Nations, a confederacy of Native American and Inuit peoples whose Muggle counterparts had been subjugated or displaced during the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries.

In addition to history and geography they learnt about politics both British and International. As the oldest son of a Noble House Connor would become the head of his house when his father stepped down and so be a Lord of the Wizengamot and have six delegated seats. While Alastor was unlikely to require the same understanding of politics as Connor he had found out that as a ward or client of House Kerwin he may be involved in their politics to an extent. If he was an exceptional student he might even get appointed to one of their seven Wizengamot seats after he finished studying.

He quickly became friends with Connor and occasionally was invited to play with the other boy. They would be going to Hogwarts together in September and Alastor was frequently invited over to meet other boys who would go to Hogwarts this year. In April that year he was invited to Connor's eleventh birthday where he saw Charlus Potter again and met Thorgil Rowle, Hector Abbott and Gavin Prewitt who would all be in his Hogwarts the party Lord Kerwin had brought them all to a quidditch match to watch the Kenmare Kestrels play Puddlemere United. This had led to Alastor developing something of a quidditch obsession and soon he was being invited to play beater at the Potter and Abbott Estates every other weekend.

The summer seemed to fly by in a mix of quidditch and classes and before Alastor knew it it was the end of August. As he had no money of his own but received all the required equipment from House Kerwin. He also made his first trip to Diagon Alley to get his wand (dragon heartstring and oak, eight inches, sturdy and suited for duelling).

Alastor had considered looking for Charlus Potter and a few of the boys he'd played quidditch with but gone for an empty compartment instead. Connor would sit with Thorgil Rowle, he was alright, except Rowle's cousins Eugenus and Ernest Rosier followed him everywhere and they disliked Muggle-borns. Better sit by himself and go over the Defence books again.

A sharp whistle sounded and the train doors shut, the platform was full of families waving good bye and Alastor felt a pang of sorrow as remembered those he had lost. He had moved on quickly as he entered his new world and the sight of so many happy families made him feel guilty for not mourning the loss of the Brogans for longer.

Alastor settled back into his seat and resumed his brooding as the clanking of the train wheels settled into a steady rhythm and the train left the platform behind. He should have paid more attention to Cathy, she was all that he had left now, but the summer had been full of activity and throughout the year had pushed himself to learn all that he could about the magical world. When he went back to the orphanage for Christmas he would spend more time with her.

The sound of the door opening pulled him from his thoughts, "Oi, Mick! Sat by yourself. I guess you think you're to good for the rest of us!"

A tall blonde haired boy stood in the doorway. He was one of the children who lived at the orphanage. He'd been at Hogwarts when Alastor had arrived but when he came home at the end of the school year he had tried to bully Alastor. Jim Peterson, Alastor remembered, a fourth year Gryffindor student. Peterson was a good foot taller than he was but Alastor had been fighting in the streets of Dublin since he was old enough to be let out of the house. He'd been faster and more vicious than Peterson expected and the older boy had gotten a sprained wrist and bruised ribs for his troubles.

"What's the matter Peterson, didn't get enough last time?"

The older boy just grinned at him and stepped into the compartment.

"As stupid as you are Moody, you'll be lucky to get into Hufflepuff. You know they kept your wand until this morning in the orphanage? No magic outside of school, right?"

Alastor's eyes widened slightly as he realised that the older boy had his wand with him. Peterson turned to the door, "Colloportus!" With Petersons back turned Alastor grasped what he figured would be his only opportunity and lunged across the compartment. Using his momentum to flatten Peterson against the door he grabbed the older boys wand hand and pinned it against the door. He was about to disarm him when he realised he probably couldn't unlock the door, for a few moments he did nothing but Peterson started to push back and the larger boy was almost definitely stronger.

He gave Peterson another shove to the back and the grabbed between the boys legs with his free hand, "Open the door or I'll squeeze!" Alastor threatened. Peterson managed to stutter out the counter and he heard the lock open. He gave him a quick punch below the ribs and grabbed his book and cloak before stepping over the boy and running down the corridor.

A cars down he saw Charlus' and Connor's compartment, deciding it was safer to put up with the Rosier twins than to get hexed into pieces by an angry Jim Peterson. Panting slightly he slid the door open.

"Hi, Alastor!" Connor stood up, "Everyone this is Alastor Moody. Alastor you've met Hector, Gavin, Thorgil and the Rosier twins."

Alastor nodded to the familiar faces. "And these are Morna McKinnon, Karlus Shacklebolt and Evander Macmillan."

He shook hands with the blond Macmillan and the dark haired Shacklebolt before bowing to the only girl present. The Rosiers went back to their conversation with Thorgil and Hector Abbott and Alastor sat in the last seat with Connor on one side and Morna McKinnon reading on the other. After chatting with Charlus and Connor for a few minutes he settled down to read his book. When it began to get dark, Hector's sister Helen, who was Head Girl this year, came by to tell them to change into their school robes.

It was pitch black by the time they reached Hogsmeade Station and Alastor's breath turned white when he stepped into the night air, despite it being the September. They turned and headed down the platform to where someone was calling the first years. At the end of the platform a stooped and balding man waited for them.

"First years! First years, we all here? Alright. My name is Arminus Filch and I am the Keeper of the Keys of Hogwarts. Follow me! You'll be taking boats across the lake so no pushin' no shovin' and no messin' about or I'll hand you over to me brother Arius, 'e's the caretaker. Likes 'is punishments 'e does."

The last bit was accompanied by a smile that bordered on a leer. Alastor reckoned it wasn't just his brother had a fondness for punishment.

Alastor got into a boat with Connor, Morna and Hector. "Everyone in? No more than four to a boat now! Alright here we go." The boats began to drift out into the lake with Filch's leading. Of to the side Alastor heard a splash. Filch heard to and peered around holding up his lantern, "And no splashin' you'll wake the squid."

There was a collective intake of breath as they rounded a corner and Hogwarts came into view. Even Alastor, who little appreciation for such things, would admit that the Castle was stunning lit up at night. All too soon the boats were floating up against a pier and Filch lead them up some steps to pair of double doors and knocked three times. The doors swung inwards soundlessly and a tall blonde man with a beak like hooked nose and black eyes looked down at them.

"Professor Prince, the first years."

"Thank you Mr Filch. First years form two lines. Follow me." The Professor lead through an entrance hall and into a huge room, opening the doors with a wave of his arm as he went. They came to a stop in front of a chair with a hat on it.

**The hat sang a song. [1] **

Professor Prince then pulled out a scroll, "When I call out your name you will put on the sorting hat and then join your house table. Abbott, Hector."

Hector went to Hufflepuff after a few moments silence. Alastor tuned the sorting out and looked around the hall. He had read about the houses and the hall in the books Siobhan Kerwin had provided so he spent most of his time staring idly at the ceiling. When he got bored of that he looked at the older students to see if he could identify any of them, he was pretty sure he'd spotted Karlus' brother Karsten at the Gryffindor table and he could see a handful of Blacks at the Slytherin table.

He turned his attention back to the sorting just in time to hear "Kerwin, Connor Óg." Connor went to Ravenclaw. Shortly afterwards Evander Macmillan went to Hufflepuff and then a few students later Morna McKinnon went to Gryffindor. Then it was Tamsin McTavish and finally "Moody, Alastor!"

Quickly he stepped forward and Professor Prince dropped the hat over his head. After a few second he heard a small, nasal voice as though someone were right next to his ear, "My, my you are a find Mr Moody. Plenty of ambition and courage. Smart but perhaps not passionate enough for Ravenclaw. Any of the other three though. Resourceful, yes. Cunning, yes. Bravery. Loyalty. Perhaps not Gryffindor, plenty of courage but you're not one for charging in without a plan are you? And it's more important that you win than that you fight. Not afraid of hard work either."

Alastor gave a snort, of course he wasn't afraid of work, work was how you got things done regardless of what house you went to at school. As if this was what it had been waiting for the voice spoke eagerly, "Yes, quite so Mr Moody. Still to have that outlook at your age . . . You'd best be HUFFLEPUFF!"

The last word rang out through the hall. The hat was lifted off and Alastor sat down next to Hector and Evander at the Hufflepuff table. A quick headcount revealed that there were another twenty seven first years to be sorted. He passed the rest of the sorting guessing what house students would go to with Hector. Thorgil and Karlus joined them at the Hufflepuff table while Charlus went to Gryffindor and the Rosiers to Slytherin. Hufflepuff also got Olivia Nairn, Hera Slughorn and Derek Sutherland before Marcella Yaxley got sorted into Gryffindor.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

[1] I refuse to invent a sorting hat song.

**Wizarding Geography:**

As a rule when places were colonised it wasn't done by entirely wiping out the natives. European's colonised using superior technology (both military and transport) allowing them to colonise where they were often outnumbered (Africa and India for example). In the Wizarding world everyone has the potential to fight (there's no need to acquire weapons or military training - just a wand and a spell book). As we can see from the success of the Death Eaters in the 1970s a small determined group can fight of numerically superior numbers. Add in warding and it would be impossible to colonise somewhere without full-out genocide.

For that reason there is no wizarding version of the US in 1917, just a confederacy of Native American Tribes, the Wizarding Inca Empire in Mexico, a Dutch community in the North-East - the Republic of New Amsterdam (based around New York which was originally Dutch) and French speaking communities in Eastern Canada and Louisiana.

At some point in the nearish future I will upload a wizarding world map which will be necessary to understand the Grindlewald War and later developments. (I'm planning a revolutionary war in North America for Moody to fight in). My intention is that by 1991 in my timeline (the start of Harry Potter) my universe will match up exactly to canon.

**Hogwarts demographics:**

I've put 59 students into first year, of which 10 are muggle-born, 26 are from Noble Houses and the remainder are mainly pure-bloods from non-Noble families. My resoning for this is that over the 20th century the muggle population booms (from 2 billion to 6 billion) while the Magical population is devasted by Grindlewald's Wars and the Voldemort's Wars. In particular I'm basing class size and composition on the idea that two magical parents will have magical children at least 98 % of the time (1 in 50 people are squibs), one magical and one non-magical will have magical children about 50% of the time and muggle-borns are about 1 in 200,000. The muggle-population of the UK is 640,000,000 so there are approximately 3200 muggle-borns. Muggle borns are about 1/6th of the magical population so the total magical population is about 20,000 with about 15000 purebloods and 2000 halfbloods.

By the time Harry Potter goes to Hogwarts the class size has shrunk to under 40 (8 Gryffindors in 1991) so to explain this I'm saying the Muggle-borns have gone from around 2500 to 3500 while the intake of purebloods has gone from 50 to 20-25 because of enitre families being wiped out in the Grindlewald War and the First Voldemort War.


	5. Chapter 5

**Alastor Moody and the World of Magic**

**Chapter 5**

The sorting complete Professor Prince gave a brief speech about the rules and then dinner appeared on the table in front of them. Over dinner all the first years introduced themselves and Alastor met other muggle-born wizards and witches for the first time, there were two muggle-born boys, Derek Sutherland and David Carlisle and a girl called Rose Lincoln. When dinner ended a seventh year prefect, who introduced himself as Nathan Ross, lead them to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

They followed him back through the Entrance Hall and down one flight of stairs into a storage cellar stopping in front of a stack of barrels lying on their sides. Each barrel was easily six feet in diameter and after they'd settled down Ross took out his wand.

"To enter Hufflepuff Common Room you have to tap the barrels with your wand, like the bricks in the Leaky Cauldron. The barrels are arranged in a pyramid with five barrels in the bottom row. Tap the middle barrel twice in the middle and then once on the left side of the rim and once on the right."

The front of the barrel on the right opened like a door.

"That opens the barrel on the far right and takes you to the Common Room. To go directly to the Boy's Dormitories tap the middle twice and then the right twice, that'll open the second barrel from the right and lead you there. For the girls tap the middle twice and then the left rim twice, that opens the second barrel from the far left and goes to the Girl's Dormitories. The barrel on the far left is the exit. It doesn't matter if you're leaving the Dormitories or the Common Room you'll always come out the barrel on the left. Also if a non-Hufflepuff student attempts to enter and tap the correct rhythm they'll be able to open a barrel but it will always lead them straight back out through the barrel on the left. Also if you try and get into the wrong dormitory it'll just bring you out through that barrel again."

Explanation complete he waved the first years into the open barrel on the right. The Common Room was large and sort of circular. The walls were plastered a pale white-brown like parchment and broken up by brown wooden beam [1]. The ceiling was curved as and supported by seven large beams joining in its centre to make a star. The Common Room had a few fireplaces set into the walls, a raised platform with a door and some windows of to the left and a heptagonal stone basin in the centre, which was slanted so the middle was about five feet deep while the edges were only four feet deep.

There were benches carved from the sides and a tiled walkway surrounded it. There were older students scattered around the Common Room in small groups but most seemed to have gone to their rooms. The prefect stopped in front of basin and was joined by five other students, "These are the other Hufflepuff prefects. My fellow seventh year, Head Girl Helen Abbott, sixth year prefects Marcus Longbottom and Anna Boyle and the newly appointed Hercules Abbott and Hermione Jones in fifth year."

"Thank you Nathan."

Hector's sister Helen took over.

"Straight ahead are the two passages to the dormitories, boys right, girls left. Over to the right you can see seven passages, these lead to smaller Year Rooms. The First Year Room is the nearest one. The Year Rooms are a common space for all of you year and each contains a small library of helpful notes and information for that years syllabus. These are donated by older Hufflepuff students when they finish seventh year and are kept up to date by the students. As you can see from the windows to the left the Common Room is partially underground, the windows face out towards the lake. The door between the windows leads to Helga's Refuge, a small cove at the edge of the lake containing a beach and small garden. Helga's Refuge is a Hufflepuff secret, the entrance to the cover looks like a cave and an overhang makes it impossible to access from the normal grounds, you are not to speak of it to any other House – other students may sneer at the work ethic of Hufflepuff, say that we're here because we couldn't get sorted into any other House. Let them talk behind my back, I'll be sunbathing on a private beach."

This drew a few snorts of laughter from the first years.

"Finally we have the Heptagon," she gestured at the stone structure behind her.

"This was added to the Common Room by Heraklion Abbott and Zeno Smith in the early 1500s. Both the Smiths and the Abbotts are descended from Hufflepuff. As seventh year students Zeno and Heraklion both the claimed the Badger's Shield, an heirloom of Hufflepuff that was kept in the Common Room. The resulting duel destroyed a large part of the Common Room and, after seeing the destructive consequences of their feuding, the pair repaired and expanded the Common Room and created the Heptagon, a duelling ring ward to be impenetrable. The pair then resolved their issues by marrying each other's sisters, the Abbott line took the Badger's Shield but presented the Smith's with the Hufflepuff Chalice. Since then all grievances that cannot be solved verbally are settled in the Heptagon, with the consent from and under the supervision of at least four prefects."

Alastor could hear Hector's stage whisper somewhere behind him, "She's been after Binn's job since she could read."

Helen dismissed them with a reminder not to stay up too late despite it being a Saturday, apparently Hufflepuff traditionally had a celebration on the first Sunday of the school year to help the first years get to know their housemates.

The group broke apart quickly, most students heading to their rooms to unpack, but Hector grabbed Alastor's arm and pulled him aside, "Here I'll introduce you to some of my family, Karlus and Thorgil have met them already. It'll be useful for you to know them, we Abbotts form the backbone of Hufflepuff House you know."

He paused, "Well us and then Smiths but there aren't any Smiths at Hogwarts at the moment."

Hector brought him over to a group of blonde children with the familiar Abbott features, "Hi everyone!"

"Hello 'Tor!"

"Congrats on making Hufflepuff."

A chorus of greetings came from Hector's relatives.

"As if I could be sorted anywhere else!" Hector scoffed. "Everyone this my friend Alastor Moody, Alastor you know Helen of the longwinded history speeches – my older sister, Hercules the prefect - my brother, and my cousin Gracchus, he's in fourth year."

After a bit of awkward small-talk and many assurances that he'd owl his parents, from Hector, they headed towards their dormitories.

"Why did I need to be introduced to all your relatives?"

"Your in Hufflepuff now Alastor, we Abbotts take loyalty very seriously. I told them you were my friend so now they'll look out for you, Give you directions, tell you where you're meant to be going, help you with your homework. That sort of thing."

They walked through the dormitory tunnel and came to another circular room. This one had seven round doors painted in a golden yellow. The one closest to them had a large black one on it. The door lead them through a corridor into another sort of entrance hall. This one had eight tunnels leading out of it. Two of the still had trunks in front of them."The tunnel with your trunk at the entrance leads to your bedroom." Hector explained. Alastor nodded and Hector grabbed his own trunk and disappeared down his tunnel.

Looking around the sort of entrance hall Alastor saw that it contained cloak pegs, a broom rack, shoe stands and empty bookshelves. He grabbed his trunk, a drab looking functional thing, somewhat worn from the previous owner's use, and dragged it down the tunnel. At the end of a tunnel was another round yellow door with Moody, Alastor written on it. Above his name was a grey silhouette, about a foot high, in the form of a shield, under his name was another smaller shield, this one white with a black upside down 'V' and three ravens, indicating his status as a ward of House Kerwin.

Inside his room he found a chest of drawers, a cupboard and a large bed. A door at the back lead to a bathroom with a shower, sink and toilet. Not bothering to unpack he pulled of his robes, shoes and trousers [2] before falling onto his bed.

* * *

><p>In the morning Marcus Longbottom, the fifth year prefect, woke up the first year boys and lead them out to breakfast. After a plate of eggs and bacon with some small ale the first years were taken on a tour of the castle, which lasted until about eleven. After that they were free to explore until lunch although they were instructed not to go back to the common room.<p>

After a lunch of pork chops and boiled potatoes they were guided back to the Common Room. They entered the Common Room to find the entire house assembled including the Lothar Bagman, Head of Hufflepuff and Defence Professor. Banners had been erected over tables and alcoves. As the first years entered Professor Bagman raised his wanted, "Obstrepant!" A loud bang silenced the room.

"Welcome First Years," Bagman began. "I am Lothar Bagman your Head of House and Defence Professor. This is the Hufflepuff Activity Day. Arranged around the Common Room are representatives from all of Hogwarts' teams, clubs and societies. Until dinner time this evening you can learn about what activities will be available to you during your Hogwarts years, from quidditch."

Bagman waved towards the largest group in the room, "To duelling!" He indicated three older students wearing leather over-robes by the Heptagon.

"You can also take this opportunity to explore Helga's Refuge, although please remember not to leave the cove if swimming. The water of the cove is shallow and the entrance is warded against grindylows, kelpies and the like. The same cannot be said for the lake proper. Keeping that in mind, enjoy yourselves!"

The crowd of first years broke apart as students rushed to get to the most interesting stalls. Cutting against the flow of students mobbing the quidditch stand Alastor made his way over to the 'Native Magics Society'. Seated under the banner was fifth year prefect Hermione Jones and a broad-shouldered blond in yellow robes and quidditch leathers. Jones looked up as he approached, "Moody right? You interested in joining?"

Hoping he didn't sound overly ignorant Alastor gave a shrug. "What exactly do you do?"

Jones gave him a small smile, "We study native magics, non-Latin based spells that aren't taught in normal Hogwarts classes. There are only six members at the moment – three Hufflepuffs, two Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor. We keep hoping for more Ravenclaws but ours is the only house that does this. Other houses expect you to find out about extra-curricular activies yourself – that's why over half of all students involved in clubs are Hufflepuffs. Also even if the ravens are interested their usually not to fond of rule breaking."

"I thought it was a school approved society?"

"It is, it's just something of a grey are. The Ministry has classed and approved all the older Latin-based spells and you need to demonstrate any newly invented ones to them. Hogwarts only actively teaches Ministry approved spells. Native magics aren't classified or regulated. They just are . . . There are no books on native magics and they're slowly falling out of use in Britain. We don't actually learn them while at Hogwarts but we go over the necessary preparations for us to be able to learn from a Master once we leave school."

His interest peaked Alastor enquired further. "What do you learn then?"

"Well my family are a Welsh Noble House so I already know bits and pieces of Welsh magic, but I'm preparing myself to obtain a Mastery of Welsh Magic after Hogwarts. Bagman here is studying Ancient Frankish Magic and then Quigley," She pointed at one of the quidditch players.

"Is studying Druidic Magic. So are the others, Druidic Magic is more common than other European native magics and a quite a few Irish students go on to study it after Hogwarts. The preparations we do are mainly theory and language based, Quigley speaks fluent Irish and I speak Welsh. Clovis here is learning Frankish. On the theory side we study the differences in how native magics work and what their limits are. Often native magics don't need wands, for example Welsh magic is often focused on spell-songs, Frankish magic is often battle focused and uses a weapon as a focus rather than a wand. Druidic magic uses a staff."

Intrigued Alastor put his name down for the Native Magics Society, it may not teach him new magic right away but it could open up opportunities in the long run. Next he headed over to the Heptagon. He stopped in front of the three leather-clad students.

"I'd like to join the Duelling Club."

They peered down at him. The one on the right gave a huff.

"You need to talk to Longbottom. We're not the Duelling Club. We are an exclusive society. To join the Heptagon Society you need to win two Duelling Club tournaments and last five minutes against a member of the society in the Heptagon."

With another small huff she dismissed him. He wandered around 'till he found Longbottom, signed up for the Duelling Club and then signed up for the Quidditch Club.

Hufflepuff he found, he learned, had a different approach to quidditch than the other houses. Where Gryffindor and Ravenclaw each had one team and Slytherin had one team and a few substitute players Hufflepuff's quidditch club had just over forty members. Anyone could join and then the members were split for training. The first string consisted of fourteen players (two full teams) with assigned positions. The house team was picked from them. The second string consisted of fourteen players in first, second and third years, also with assigned positions, who were being groomed for first string spots when older players graduated.

The third string consisted of the remaining players. The third string played a match once a week against each other and once a month against a first or second string team. The third string played more for fun then competition and players were free to move between positions instead of training constantly as one type of player.

Having signed up for those three he headed out to the Refuge and messed about with the other first year boys until dinner. They headed down to the great hall, after showering and changing, where he had a couple of helpings of fish pie before turning in for the night, tired from the days exertions and aware of the fact that they had their first classes the next morning.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

[1] Architecturally I imagine Hufflepuff as being similar to a Hobbit hole, so I'm modelling this on a Bag-End.

[2] For American readers - I use British English. You'll notice it in my use of 'centre', 'colour', 'colonise' and so on. In addition to spelling differences when I write pants I mean underpants. For what Americans call pants I use either trousers (generic) or jeans, trackies (tracksuit bottoms) etc. for specifics.

**Native Magic:**

JKR uses pseudo-Latin for her spells. Since England was occupied by the Romans and the invaded by the the French/Normans, resulting in a French speaking aristocracy, I forgive her. However there would be no reason for Scandinavian, Germanic, Irish, Arabic or Slavic magic to be based on Latin (and that's just looking at Europe). SO in a similar manner to the lack of colonisation there has been a lack of standardisation in my universe. Other cultures use magic in other languages and often with different foci. Think of Latin spells and wands as Western European culture.

**Hufflepuff Quidditch Club:**

JKR's quidditch has always pissed me off. She repeatedly compares it to football (soccer) - for example Ron and Dean argue with equal fanaticism over the relative benefits of football vs quidditch. I grew up in the UK and am a football fan. When I was a school we spent every lunchtime kicking a ball around and every fifteen minute break taking penalties or even just shooting the ball at girls if it was muddy and wet. the way I see it if quidditch is that popular there's no way the entirety of Hogwarts (in my version approx 420 students) are going to be satisfied letting just 28 students play all the quidditch. Even adjusting for ease of play (football needs a ball and soemthing to mark the pitch, quidditch needs brooms, bats, a quaffel, bludgers and a snitch) I believe that kids would play it far more than the books show. Even if its just two teams of chaser. So the Hufflepuff Club has 14 players for the house team (which also gives a bit of tactical flexibility - in PoA Diggory had an advantage due to his weight/build in bad weather) Huffelpuff can adapt to that by training two seekers and picking one. I also think the idea of having a younger second team makes sense - forgetting the implausibility of super Harry being a born genius seeker - you can't expect an untrained 12/13 year-old to replace a 17/18 year-old and not have your play suffer, not to mention you can expect a 12 year old chaser to be able to stand up to a 17 year old Slytherin in a game as physical as quidditch.

**End note. Sorry went on a bit of a rant at the end there, I just dislike laziness. The way I see it assuming everything was real people in stories should act as realistically as possible. Please read and review.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Alastor Moody and the World of Magic**

**Chapter 6**

The first month of classes had slipped by quickly, so far Alastor reckoned he was perhaps slightly above average compared to his class mates. Still that meant nothing. Personally he doubted there was anything you couldn't change between the age of eleven and becoming an adult - maybe raw power – but everything else, malleable, impermanent. Bad at potions study more potions – problem solved. If there was one thing he was coming to realise about the Wizarding world it was very much people thought to be predetermined.

All the Blacks in Slytherin, all the Abbotts in Hufflepuff. Why? Because apparently having one incredibly loyal ancestor would result in that loyalty being passed down for a thousand years. Wizards who believed that being related to one person in three ways made them better than their peers.

Not that muggles were any better, Alastor thought bitterly. He had lived in some of the worst slums in Europe, he'd seen men like his father and uncle blacklisted and their families forced into starvation because rich men would rather let women and children starve than improve working conditions and lose a small part of their profits. He'd been on the streets during the Rising and there he'd seen English officers drive their own men across a bridge to be slaughtered by rebel guns. And then he'd seen the detestation as British battleships shelled the city indiscriminately – sometimes he still heard the guns in his dreams.

No muggles were murderous bastards, from the absentee landlords who crammed hundreds of tenants into buildings that were already half-collapsed to the Generals in France who sent wave after wave of eighteen year-olds over barbed wire and into machine-gun fire.

But Wizards they really held a grudge. That was what brought on his foul mood. That morning he'd been wandering through one of Hogwarts' many identical hallways when he'd rounded a corner and found the Rosier twins and the three resident Blacks bullying a Gryffindor second-year.

* * *

><p>The Gryffindor's possessions had been scattered across the floor, his robes were full of burn marks and the boy himself lay face-up on the floor, his body rigid – petrified Alastor thought. Alastor had lingered unspotted near then corner, the two Rosiers and youngest Black were in year but the others were older, one was fourth and the other sixth or seventh he thought. Unfortunately his original thought process, discretion being the better part of valour and all that, was forgotten when, finished tormenting their target they spat, one after another, onto the petrified boys face.<p>

As the last one turned to mutter something at the Gryffindor before he spat on him Alastor saw his face clearly. He hadn't recognised him before, there were so many bloody Blacks he didn't usually bother differentiating, but him he recognised. Arcturus Black the third, Slytherin, seventh year, Head Boy and therefore supposedly the best Hogwarts had to offer.

All sense of restraint vanished, he didn't know what exactly made him lose control but he did. He saw red, in a moment of rage-fuelled clarity he decided, he knew, that these boys before represented all that was wrong in his new world, they were a cancer at the heart of the Wizarding world. That five of them including a seventeen year old would do this to a second year for whatever reason.

His raged crystallised into something cold and clear. Time seemed to slow. In his mind he ran through every piece of magic he knew. He only had one duelling spell, the club hadn't moved beyond shield charms and he'd never tested it but he had researched the disarming charm in the second year books – he had resolved just after arriving that he would become the youngest member of the Heptagon Society. Now thought he forgot all except his anger. He burst around his corner, arm steadily trained on Arcturus Black and shouted the incantation.

"Expelliarmus!"

He thought nothing of it then, but later he couldn't believe his luck, that was the first time he'd managed a spell without any practice. A jet of red light burst from the end of his wand, connecting with the Head Boy and propelling him back into the wall. Catching the boys wand as he ran Alastor threw himself into the fourth year Black, knocking the pair of them of to the ground. Breaking his fall by landing on the older boy he rolled, grabbed the second wand and charged the three first years.

If he stopped they'd get him, if he end up in an extended duel they'd likely beat him just by knowing more spells – they'd probably been learning curses for year, he wouldn't be surprised if underage magic laws didn't apply to Blacks.

Only one thing for it he decided. A quick punch sent the last Black to his knees. The Rosiers fled.

A groan alerted him to the fact that Arcturus was trying to get up. A look around confirmed that the other two were getting to their feet as well. Couldn't have that though. Another punch winded the youngest Black and kept him down. A kick to the ribs sent the fourth year crawling. He walked over to the oldest, and stopped in front of him. Arcturus Black the third looked up at him, his face a mixture of contempt and utter surety that he would have his own way.

"You don't know what you've done mud - argh!"

A kick to the Black family jewels shut him up – with some luck that'd stop them breeding. A stuttered 'finite' released the Gryffindor. The boy began to thank Alastor as he got to his feet.

"Shut-up!"

The boy flinched and bent to gather his possessions. "Leave your feckin' stuff! Follow me!"

His accent was becoming more pronounced as the tension got to him. He strode of down the corridor without looking back. He could hear the footsteps of the Gryffindor following him. The whimpering of the oldest Black faded as they left the corridor. He didn't know when it started but his hands were shaking so badly he could barely keep hold of the wands he'd captured.

As the rage faded he realised how truly fucked he was. He'd almost certainly be expelled. Maybe executed or something, he wouldn't put it passed this lot to have a death penalty on striking a member of a Noble House.

He stopped in front of Professor Bagman's door. He went to knock but his hand was spasming to badly.

"Here, let me."

The Gryffindor knocked. It was a Saturday so Bagman would probably be in. He got his first proper look at the Gryffindor while they waited. The boy was tall and skinny. He had short red hair although it was smeared with blood from just above his ear on one side. The door opened to reveal his Head of House, without waiting to be invited he pulled the Gryffindor into the office. Bagman looked as though he was going to reprimand him. Just as he opened his mouth his eyes flicked down to the movement of Alastor's still-shaking left hand.

"Have a seat Mr Moody."

Alastor sat in the indicated seat noticing that the Professor was wearing a dressing gown.

"I have just been involved in an . . . altercation, with a group of Slytherin students, sir." He held out his hand.

"These are the wands of Arcturus and . . . uh"

"Lycoris ." The Gryffindor supplied helpfully.

"Of Arcturus and Lycoris Black, sir."

His Head of House looked surprised for the smallest fraction of a moment before his face went grim, "Explain, Mr Moody."

"I was wandering through a hallway on the second floor and I came across a group of five student beating – ah . . ."

He glanced awkwardly at the red haired boy who realised his difficulty.

"Weasley, Septimus Weasley."

"Beating a petrified Mr Weasley, sir. I disarmed the three Blacks and the Rosier twins ran off."

"You, Mr Moody, single-handedly bested a seventh year, a fourth year and three first years? After a month of magical education?"

Alastor felt himself turn red.

"Not magically, sir." He mumbled looking down at his lap.

"Excuse me, Mr Moody?"

Alastor looked up into Bagman's eyes. "I disarmed Arcturus Black magically, sir. I beat the others."

"You beat them physically?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm sure you realise that this is a very serious matter Mr Moody. You have assaulted three students and disarmed the Head Boy."

"The Head Boy was kicking the shite out of a petrified second year . . . sir."

"I shall ignore your impertinence Mr Moody. Both of you are to return to your Common Rooms and stay there. I shall have to speak to Deputy Headmaster Prince and contact Lord Kerwin. And Lords Black and Prewitt - Mr Weasley. You are dismissed."

The pair of them nodded and had walked in silence until they parted ways with a muttered, "I'm sorry." From Weasley.

* * *

><p>He'd known he was in a whole heap of trouble since then. But that wasn't the source of his current ill temper.<p>

No what had gotten him into this mood was his housemates' reactions. By the time they came back from lunch everyone knew what had happened. Alastor had stayed in his room but a few people came by so he knew that everyone was talking about him. Hector and Evander had come by around two in the afternoon.

Hector had a message from Connor saying that Lord Kerwin had been called in to a meeting tonight. Alastor was to wear his best robes and be ready at eight. There was going to be a meeting with the Deputy Headmaster, the Heads of Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor and Lords Kerwin, Rosier, Black and Prewitt.

What had sent him into this black mood was the conversation he'd had with Hector and Evander. He'd explained what had happened and then Evander said he shouldn't have interfered.

Seeing his outrage Evander had scrambled to explain, "Septimus Weasley will spend the reast of his life under the heel of their likes."

"What?" The pair shared a glance, Evander continued.

"Sorry, I forget you're a muggle-born sometimes. You know the Malfoys?"

Alastor nodded.

"About two hundred years ago the Malfoys were poised to become the most powerful pure-blood House in England. Towards the end of the 18th century the Malfoy Lord was a powerful warlock called Brutus Malfoy. Brutus had seven sons of exceptional talent and power, who he creatively named Primus, Secundus, Tertius, Quartinus, Quintus, Sextus and Septimus. Despite their power they were no unopposed. House Weasley, which was a Noble House back then, had sworn a magical oath, generations earlier, to do all in their power to prevent a those Houses aligned with the darker aspects of magic."

Evander paused for breath and Hector took up the tale.

"In 1792 the Malfoys were about to ally their faction with the next most powerful dark faction, led by the Rosiers, and gain a Wizengamot majority. To achieve their alliance Brutus Malfoy was marrying Tertius, Quintus and Sextus to three Rosier brides. While they were at the wedding the Weasleys, who have a long history as cursebreakers, broke the wards on Malfoy Manor and concealed themselves in the cellars. When the Malfoys returned and eventually went to sleep the Weasley forces crept out of their hiding places and slaughtered all the Malfoys and their Rosier brides."

Evander began again.

"Only Septimus Malfoy, who was sixteen and therefore still at Hogwarts, survived. He graduated Hogwarts and went into hiding. Septimus died in exile in the Novgorod Republic where he had stayed with business contacts of his father. Having partially restored the Malfoy fortune while in hiding Septimus' son Cassius returned to Britain in 1870. He rebuilt Malfoy Manor and in 1880 he re-established his grandfather's alliance by marrying Eva Rosier.

Seeing his growing power and fearing a blood feud that could devastatate the Noble Houses the Wizengamot called a special council. After three days in council an agreement was reached. The Malfoys and Rosiers agreed not to pursue the blood feud but House Weasley had to pay a weregild – a head price for those murdered in 1792. Additionally House Weasley was cast down and are no longer a Noble House. Over the next twenty three years the Weasley family, who were never really rich, was continually impoverished. Realising that it would take lifetimes to repay the debt Titus commit suicide in 1903, intending to end his line and so the debt.

What he didn't know at the time is that his wife was pregnant. A eight months later his wife died giving birth to Septimus Weasley. The Malfoys viewed the suicide as a dishonourable attempt to break the agreement and almost renewed their blood feud. Only the fact that Septimus Weasley was a ward of House Prewitt prevented it. Regardless they hate each other, and Septimus will likely spend his entire life paying almost everything he earns to the Malfoys."

Evander finished. Alastor waited for a few seconds to see if there was any more coming. Once he decided they were done he spoke up, "What and that makes it alright to beat a petrified boy?"

At Evander's silence he gave a snort of disgust and looked over at Hector who just shrugged. They'd left hours ago but even so he still fuming that he lived in a society who considered the hundred year old actions of someone's ancestors a good enough justification for beating an immobilised child.

He glanced up at the clock. Seven thirty. Time to get ready. Who knew, maybe he wouldn't be part of that society tomorrow.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**On the Combat capabilities of Mr Moody:**

I realise that I have just head an 11 year old beat up a 17 year old, a 14 year old and another 11 year old. However I strive for realism so I have a good explanation. Firstly Moody doesn't actually beat up the 17 year old, his stunner is powerful enough to take him down (due to anger management difficulties). Secondly Moody doesn't manage to beat them up because he's stronger or quicker. Moody beats them because he is more used to physical violence. As pureblood wizards they focus heavily on magical combat. They're not used to physical violence. And finally Moody has an advantage in terms of sheer viciousness and brutality - a product of his tough upbringing. Where a normal person (you or me I hope!) might punch or kick Moody also uses his knees and elbows. Where we might hold someone down or leave them when their knocked down Moody will happily give them a couple of well-placed kicks to make sure they stay down. This is because where Moody was growing up you fight for keeps.

**The Weasley - Malfoy Feud:**

I wanted to give a good back story to how the Weasleys became poor blood traitors despite having generation of pureblood ancestors. Also I've always disliked the simple Gryffindor/Weasley/Potter/etc. = Good, Slytherin/Malfoy/etc. = Bad idea. And the idea that entire families are good or bad or Gryffindor or Slytherin. That's also why I have families that will eventually become Dark as being Light at this point in time and vice versa. In particular note Yaxley and Macnair in Gryffindor, Rowle in Hufflepuff and Catherine Bell (ancestor of one Katie Bell) in Slytherin.

A bit of an odd chapter compared to the others. A mix of history and action. Still two chapters in one night. Go me! **Please read and review.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Alastor Moody and the World of Magic**

**Chapter 7**

At ten to eight Alastor met Lord Kerwin in the Entrance Hall, while they walked up to the Headmaster's Office he told Lord Kerwin the details of his confrontation with the Head Boy. Throughout the tale Kerwin kept his face impassive, his only reaction a muttered, "They might even have to wake the Headmaster for this."

The Headmaster, Armando Dippet, hadn't emerged from his quarters for three years. At two hundred and eighty years of age he was the oldest British wizard, rumours had it that he had gone completely senile and spent all his time cooped up in his bedroom conjuring ferrets, unfortunately there was no precedent for replacing a Headmaster – the position was for life or until resignation.

Kerwin knocked on a door between two gargoyles, the right gargoyle turned and examined them before the door opened. The climbed up the stairs and waited in front of a door. After a few seconds Deputy Headmaster Prince's voice came from inside, "Lord Kerwin, Mr Moody you may enter." As they came through the door the Deputy turned back to one of the men already present.

"Lord Rosier, as we have established, your sons were not involved in the incident with Mr Moody. However they will each serve a detention for bullying Mr Weasley."

With a curt nod Rosier swept out of the room.

Once he was gone Alastor looked around the room. All three Blacks were present along with Septimus Weasley, sat in chairs against the far wall. Two men sat opposite Prince at the desk. The Deputy Headmaster waved a hand and two new chairs appeared in front of the desk. Lord Kerwin nodded to the men either side of him and waved Alastor not the seat next to him. Prince ran over the events of the morning, asking Alastor for any omissions. Apart from one or two minor details the current version was as true to his recollection. After a moments silence Prince looked at the man sat next to Lord Kerwin.

"As you can see Mr Black, there is no question of guilt. I see no choice but to dock Slytherin twenty points for each Black involved in the attack on Mr Weasley. Lycoris and Regulus will each serve a month's detentions. That leaves the question of Arcturus."

"Excuse me Professor? Three members of my House were assaulted by a first year Hufflepuff and you are punishing them? The Head Boy of Hogwarts was assaulted in a corridor!"

The red-bearded man cut across Black.

"The Head Boy of Hogwarts was assaulting a first year in a corridor – with four other students aiding him!"

"Gentlemen-" Prince cut across both men.

"I want this upstart punished!"

Black had stood and was pointing at Alastor.

"Your spawn was beating a petrified child Black!"

The red head was on his feet.

"Enough!"

Lord Kerwin stood as well.

"Arcturus Black has clearly demonstrated he is unfit to grace the halls of Hogwarts, let alone be its Head Boy. He goes or Mr Moody goes."

"By all means, Professor Prince, expel the mudblood." Black looked delighted.

"And if Mr Moody goes, my son will transfer to Scoil Draíocht Teamhair. And all future Kerwins. And Joyces. And De Lacys."

Silence greeted this. Black seemed to become more nervous.

"You leave us little choice Lord Kerwin." Prince said softly.

"My brother is a Hogwarts Governor this will not stand! I will take this to the Wizengamot! No Black has ever been expelled from Hogwarts and we will not let him be the first!"

Black turned to the seated students, "Arcturus, we're leaving."

A stunned silence follow Black's tirade and exit. With a curt, "Headmaster." Lord Kerwin guided Alastor out of the room. The ginger man following with Septimus Wesley trailing behind him.

"Thank you, Lord Kerwin."

"I didn't do it for you Moody, today you have unwittingly struck a blow against the dominance of House Black. Expulsion from Hogwarts will reflect badly on the entire family and Arcturus Black is by all accounts an able wizard. Being expelled is enough to keep him from the Black succession. Perhaps even get him disowned."

They walked in silence until they reached the Entrance Hall. Alastor and Weasley looked around awkwardly while the two older men spoke. After a few bits of Wizengamot news they shook hands.

"Until next time Lord Kerwin."

"Lord Prewitt."

Weasley and Prewitt headed up the stairs towards.

"I don't know if I should be impressed or disappointed Mr Moody. Until next time."

Pulling his hood up Lord Kerwin walked out into the October rain.

Acting on impulse Alastor ran after him.

"Lord Kerwin!"

As he caught up with Kerwin he went down on one knee.

"Lord Kerwin, I owe you a debt of gratitude for your actions today."

Desperately trying to recall words he had read on allegiances amongst Noble Houses he presented his wand.

"Lord Connor Mór of House Kerwin I pledge to you my wand, my shield and my sword. Until such time as either my Lord or my death release me. On my magic and my life I pledge it."

Kerwin stared down at him, surprise evident on his usually grim features.

"On behalf of House Kerwin I accept your oath. As you serve House Kerwin so House Kerwin shall serve you, rewarding fealty with love, valour with honour, treachery with vengeance.. May you serve with strength and courage until such time as your duties are no more."

Reaching down he tapped each shoulder and then the presented wand, with his own. With a small smile he helped Alastor to his feet. "You realise that was the Warrior's Oath?"

"It was the only one I could recall completely, My Lord."

"You are proving to be full of surprises Mr Moody."

* * *

><p>The next morning was a Sunday so when Alastor went down to the Great Hall at eight thirty he found it almost deserted, he seated himself at the near end of the Hufflepuff table and helped himself to a breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausages and black pudding. It was only just starting to fill up the news owls swooped in at nine.<p>

Still the only first year Alastor decided to borrow someone's newspaper to pass some time. He grabbed the nearest Prophet and unrolled it only to drop it into his eggs as he read the headline, "Head Boy expelled after confrontation with First Year – Lord Black dead!" Quickly he tore of the egg covered back page and flattened the paper next to him.

_**Head Boy expelled after confrontation with First Year!**_

_Following a confrontation with a number of students, Arcturus II Black, has been removed from the Head Boy position and expelled from Hogwarts. Arcturus was sixth in line to take over the Black Lordship at the time of the incident. Also involved in the incident were Lycoris Black and Regulus Black although it is not known if they have been disciplined as well. The confrontation leading to these developments occurred yesterday morning between Septimus Weasley, last member of the once noble Weasley clan, and a number of Slytherin students. While the causes of the incident are unclear it has been speculated, due to the involvement of two members of House Rosier, that the infamous Weasley-Malfoy feud caused the disagreement._

_ What is known is that the confrontation ended after all three Blacks were disarmed and subdued by First Year student Alastor Moody, a ward of House Kerwin. After a late night meeting with Lords Kerwin, Rosier and Prewitt as well as Ex-Headmaster Phineas Black, Deputy Headmaster Prince expelled Arcturus Black. _

_**Lord Black dies!**_

_ Lord Caius Flavianus Black (born 1776) died of a heart attack in his home in Norfolk last night. Caius Black was the 11__th__ Lord Black and is survived by one son, Ex-Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black, and four grandchildren. _

_During his lifetime Caius Black was active on every aspect of Wizarding life. In his school years he played as a beater for Gryffindor and in his late forties he worked as a tactical adviser to the English Quidditch team – the first to do so without being a professional player. He married late in 1828 and his first son was born in 1829. In his fifties he became a Warlock – with his passing the only remaining English Warlock is Headmaster Dippet. Having mastered magical combat he was appointed to one of the six minor seats the House of Black held in the Wizengamot. He served in this position with distinction and saw combat in New Holland and Van Diemen's Land as a British observer to the Dutch Armed Forces. In 1853 he was given an Auror command and stationed in British West Australia where he saw combat against Maori forces in the Sea War of 1858. He returned to Britain in 1861 where was instrumental in the creation of the Aurors. Caius became Lord Black after the death of his father, Titus, in 1882. He quickly established himself as his father's successor as the leader of the right-wing of the Wizengamot. Under his guidance the Wizengamot saw a period of cooperation as Caius established a coalition of moderates which ultimately led to the Muggle-Born Integration Act of 1901. In the last two decades Caius allowed his remaining son, Phineas, to take over his public responsibilities and retired to work as a spell crafter in his Norfolk Estate. In his passing Magical Britain loses a valuable public servant and esteemed citizen._

Alastor had just finished the front page when Hector and Evander arrived. "Read this!"

He tossed them the paper and went back to his somewhat cold eggs. 'With the ability to magically make food appear on the tables, had no one ever thought to keep it warm.' Alastor wondered. Glancing over at his two friends he began a mental countdown. He knew them well enough that he could predict when they'd be done reading.

Right on time Hector looked up at him and then hurried down the length of the table so he could sit next to Alastor. 'Three . . . two . . . one.' He'd miscalculated. 'One . . . two . . . three.' Hector was hurrying up his side of the table.

"You killed Lord Black!"

Evander had finished reading. Throughout the Hall heads turned towards the noise. Quietly Alastor leaned forward and beckoned Evander over. The boy leaned forwards and Alastor flicked him in the forehead, "Not really. But thanks for telling everyone."

"Sorry."

"What's happening?" Hector had arrived.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you staying at Hogwarts?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Alastor asked.

"Will it be safe? Now that . . ." Hector waved towards the paper, "Now that's happened."

Alastor shrugged and turned back to his food. "Dunno, that's up to Kerwin. Now I'm going to finish eating and go back to the Common Room – where there aren't any Blacks or Rosiers."

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

This chapters a bit short. Sorry about that. **Please read and review.** And then tell your friends. And your enemies. And your siblings, parents, grandparents, cousins,, teachers and milkmen.


	8. Chapter 8

**Alastor Moody and the World of Magic**

**Chapter 8**

"Apis aculeum!"

Almost instinctively Alastor ducked back behind the bookshelf and raised his wand. The stinging hex went wide and fizzled out harmlessly against another bookshelf. Crouching down he edged forward until he reached a trolley full of returned books. Quickly Alastor pulled out a few books and looked for the caster through gap he'd created. All he managed to glimpse was a couple of cloaks as his attacker ran from the library.

With a sigh he looked down at the books he pulled away and knelt down to sort them back into the right order. Flipping on of them over he stopped to read the title, _It's more than a Duel: A Review of Magical Combat _by Sulla S. Flint. His interest caught, Alastor flipped open the introduction.

_In these modern times, where even Muggles no longer use proper physical combat it is easy for we Wizards, so far removed from the need to practice physical as well as magical combat. In this last century I have observed as even my fellow Warlocks have abandoned physical training. To this end I have combined all my previous experience and research into a single volume, thus even when all practicioners of such arts have passed a record will remain._

_ This book contains three volumes. The first on physical training and hand to hand combat. This is based of my travels to observe the martial arts practitioners of the Far East and my own experiences with European practices. The second, my own proudest work, contains all my knowledge of combined physical and magical combat. This ranges from the relatively easily observed staff fighting of the Druids of Ireland and Mann to the art of Magickal Archery, which I studied under Ganbaatar the Ancient who himself learnt this magic in the years of the reign of Chingis Khan. Finally in the third volume I examine tactics and strategy for single combat and for full battle. In this section I examine not only the key wizarding battles and tacticians dating back almost ten thousand years but also the battles and tactics of the great Muggle war-lords from the Romans, Julius Caesar, Gaius Marius and Cornelius Sulla – my own namesake - to Napoleon's defeat by Wellington at Waterloo, which I myself observed but two years ago._

_Written by,_

_Sulla Sejanus Flint_

_Warlock of House Flint_

_On the 16__th__ of December in the years of 1817_

He flicked to a random page and began to read. He had barely read half a page when there was a cough behind him.

"Ahem. What is going on here, young man?"

Turning around he saw the librarian, Madam Shanks.

"Nothing Miss. Just looking at some books, is all."

"There are tables and a study area over there."

She glanced at the book Alastor was holding.

"Return that to these to the trolley immediately, young man!"

She began to pick up some of the fallen books.

"Some of these aren't safe for you to handle, run along now and I'll return them to the Restricted Section."

"Yes miss."

Alastor said. He knelt down to pick up his school bag taking hold of Flint's book under it. Carefully he stood up, making sure that his bag covered the book, and hurried out of the library. Once he was in the corridor he put the book into his bag and headed through a door hidden behind a tapestry that came out near the Hufflepuff Common Room. It took longer than the normal route but there was less chance of being hexed.

When he left the secret passage he took a a few turns and went down a flight of stairs before he reached the entrance. Pulling out his wand Alastor tapped out the pattern to open the door to the Boy's Dormitories. Heading through the familiar corridors he found himself in the room that had now been his for three and a bit months. Now that they were drawing close to the end of the term and he was preparing to head back for the holidays he found himself comparing the room favourably to the shared dormitory at the orphanage.

Since his arrival Alastor had been changing the room to make it feel more like it was his. The top of the chest of drawers now served as a bookshelf with his school books and his father's old James Connolly pamphlet on it. On the wall behind his bed there was a poster of the Swords Sweepers, a Dublin Quidditch team. Opposite his bed there was a green flag with 'Irish Republic' written on it in stylised orange lettering.

Walking over to his drawers Alastor pulled out the bottom drawer and hid the book beneath his muggle jacket. This done checked the hallway outside his room was empty and headed back out through the barrels where he tapped open the Common Room Tunnel.

Evander spotted him almost as soon as he came in.

"Al! Alastor! Hey AL!" Alastor gave him a wave as he headed over so he shut up before people began to get annoyed with he reached the table he unslung his bag and fell back into an empty couch. Hector and Evander sat opposite him looking at a moving diagram of a quidditch player.

"Where's Thorgil and Karlus?" He asked.

"We scared them of with the quidditch talk. How was the library?" Hector answered without looking up.

"That quidditch thing is today?"Alastor asked, a look of shock on his features.

"Off course it's today!"

"How can't you know that? How can anyone not know that?!"

Evander stood up and began waving his arms about in order to adequately express his irritation. Hector gave Alastor an exasperated look. Alastor just grinned back at him. Hector let Evander continue for a few more seconds before he pulled him down.

"Of course he knows it's today, he's just messing with you. You decided what positions you're trying out for?" Alastor shook his head.

"Bagman thinks I should try for beater."

"Bagman thinks everyone should try for beater." Evander grumbled.

"You're just annoyed 'cause he said you'd make a better beater than seeker."

It was the last Sunday before the winter holidays and the second set of quidditch trials. All the club members had been grouped into strings in the first session but they only lasted the first half of the year. The winter trials were held before the holidays and based on the results players could be moved up or down in the teams. This way Muggle-borns who couldn't practice at home got a chance to make the first team for the second half of the year.

It also let players switch position or, in the case of the first years, get assigned a permanent positions on the second string teams. They spent the next half hour looking at quidditch tactics before heading up to the Great Hall for a quick lunch and making their way out to the pitches.

The changing rooms were packed with all forty one members of the club there to participate in the second round of trials. As they arrived Ciarán Quigley and Clovis Bagman handed them old quidditch leathers. Alastor began to pull on his leathers while Evander complained about how bad all the school leathers smelt. While it was true that most smelt a bit stale Alastor took more note of the fact that his leathers came with a thick leather seat, indicating that they predated the cushioning charm. He'd worn one of the old pairs before and while they weren't too bad in the air he couldn't walk properly and had to waddle around like he'd been sat on a horse all day.

After making certain his kit was fastened tightly he went over to the broom cupboards. Most people were flying their own brooms for the trials but the other first years weren't allowed them. And by the looks of it they had gotten to all the good school brooms before him, with a sigh of exasperation he grabbed an old Oakshaft 79. Not very agile but sturdy, no good for seekers but popular with certain styles of beater.

Once everyone was kitted out they made their way out onto the pitch and were told to group themselves by the positions they were trying out for. Alastor lingered just long enough to be spotted by Bagman who immediately sent him to join the group of prospective beaters. The chasers and keepers walked down to the other end of the pitch and then Bagman shouted for quiet.

"Right. We're going to be having the first round of the beater trials go on at the same time as the seeker trials. There are eight hopefuls in the seeker trials who are going to be chasing down twelve snitches. The three seeker spots will be taken by those who catch the most snitches, in the case of a draw the tie will be broken by releasing on snitch – the person who catches it ranks above the others. Meanwhile the beater trials will be going on in the same area. There are six beater positions up for grabs. There are ten of you trying out for the six spots."

Looking around Alastor saw he and Cynthia Bagman, the captain's sister, were the only first years trying out.

"I'll be releasing seven bludgers – one for every two players on our end of the pitch. The rules for this round are simple. If you get hit by a bludgers you lose a point, if you get knocked of your broom you stay on the ground and you lose two points – that part goes for you seekers as well – if you hit someone else you gain a point and if you knock someone else off their broom you get two point."

Bagman bent over and opened a chest releasing the twelve snitches.

"EVERYONE! Look over here!" Bagman bellowed. "Right, now that you seekers have lost sight of the snitches we can start. All the beaters got their bats?" There was a wave of muttered yeses. "Good. Everyone get in the air. I'll be releasing a bludgers every ten seconds."

Alastor pushed of the ground as hard as he could, the extra force helping to make up for the Oakshaft's lack of momentum. He managed to gain enough height that the first six bludgers never made it anywhere near him. The seventh, however shot up through the other players and veered straight towards him. Alastor held his ground and held his bat out angled slightly outwards. With a crack the bludgers hit the bat, the impact causing him to slide a few inches down the broom. The bludger's momentum lost it bounced back a foot or so and hung there for a second. Recovering quickly Alastor jerked the broom up and swung his bat down as hard as he could, sending the bludger down into the sixteen players below him.

For the next few minutes he drifted above the rest, stopping the few bludgers that came up towards him with ease but too far from the players below to accurately hit anything. Soon two seekers and a beater went down leaving thirteen players and seven bludgers. Looping behind the goal posts he descended to the level of most other players. He drifted around the edge of the pitch waiting for an opportunity to try the move he and Hector had been looking at this morning. For a few minutes he had an easy time of it just ward off the odd bludger and then he spotted his opportunity.

Three seekers veered to avoid a bludger just ahead of him. The bludger continued straight through the group towards Alastor and the seekers pointed their broom straight up after the snitch they'd been chasing. With the momentum they'd lost avoiding the bludgers the moved so slowly that they just hung there, brooms pointed upwards, for a few second. Carefully noting where they were Alastor shifted his broom into the path the bludger. On a less robust room he might have been knocked out of the sky but the Oakshaft absorbed perfectly as the bludger hit the upper end of the brooms tail, the twigs cushioning it and the shaft stopping it dead.

Spinning backwards and left in a disorienting flip he put all his momentum into the outstretched bat and sent the bludger rocketing back at the cluster of seeker. Alastor spun himself upright and watched with a feeling of great satisfaction, and perhaps a little bit of guilt, as his bludger smashed through the twigs of one seekers broom before hitting the other just under his armpit, sending both tumbling towards the ground. The third seeker flashed a look back over his shoulder and then reached out to grab the snitch from the air.

Delighted with his success but wary of the bludgers – they would outnumber the players soon – Alastor returned to his high position. There were only a few more minutes left so he spent the rest of the trial fending off bludgers from below. Not long afterwards the whistle called the players down and a wave of Quigley's wand had the bludgers drop to the ground, inanimate. The beaters and seekers headed into the locker rooms to get showered and changed. About five minutes later the chasers and keepers followed them in with Quigley, who told everyone who was done changing to wait in the stands.

After a short wait Quigley and the House team came out and stopped in front of the stands. Quigley cast a sonorous charm on himself and then began to call out the names of the seven first string substitutes. Alastor didn't start paying attention until they reached the second string since first years didn't make the House team. Both Evander and Hector were called in the second string chasers and Alastor looked around to try and spot them but he couldn't see anything except the bulky upper year beater hopefuls stood around him.

Finally they got to the second string beaters and Alastor got called along with Cynthia Bagman, a second year and a third year, neither of whom he knew well. Once he was called his attention wandered and as his excitement faded he realised how cold it was.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Another chapter = another step closer to failing college and working in McDonald's for the next 45 years. Bit of an odd split between quidditch and the library however my aim here is to show how Moody became the person he is. I doubt he was born grim, paranoid and vicious (and I assume he was less scarred at the time). I imagine as a child he was relatively athletic and remarkably intelligent. **This is quite a long author's note. I suggest reading the part on Magical Combat - it's relevant to the story. You're free to read the rest but it's just my thoughts - my not entirely sane thoughts.**

**Magical Combat:**

Gryffindor had a sword, ergo at some point Wizards fought with weapons as well as wands. In my universe wizarding duels are the magical counterparts of late Medieval to Napoleonic period duels. Something the aristocracy engaged in, more a matter of honour than of combat. So a Wizard's Duel is like two 19th century aristocrats with pistols at dawn. Magical combat is full on warfare it is to dueling what Medieval sword fighting is to fencing. And, like sword fighting (or axes or combat archery), Magical Combat is dying out as wizarding society moves on from blood feuds to duels and monetary settlements.

It is my intention for the book by Flint to be a big influence on Moody. If any of you have ideas for varieties of history-influenced types of magical combat let me know and I'll see if I can work them in. At the moment I'll probably include the semi-fictional magical martial arts of Irish Druidic staff combat (a mixture of physical and magical combat), Frankish axe fighting (using the Francisca throwing axe), Mongolian archery, the Viking Beserkergang and the Germanic Zweihander broadsword (Teutonic Knight style).

If there is sufficient interest I might publish _It's more than a Duel: A Review of Magical Combat _asa companion piece so that I don't need to quote it in this all the time.

**Response to Hectorsmom's Review:**

Thanks for the review. I figured Hufflepuffs are underrated. And in addition to loyalty I consider Hufflepuffs to be the most practical and have the most common sense (hard working is related to those I think). If you want an academic get a Ravenclaw, if you want someone for a reckless semi suicidal mission get a Griffindo, if you want a politician, diplomat or spy get a SLytherin. And if you want someone with good sense, who will do their best to deliver as promised but will make a tactical withdrawal and regroup instead of fighting to the futile end (eh, Gryffindors)get a 'puff.

On the other hand I also believe that Hufflepuff's are the ones who will do what it takes to win - Gryffindors will be chivalrous and too honourable and Slytherins to amoral. If you need someone who can decide when torture maybe necessary to save lives, or who will give the order to kill prisoners rather than release them or starve them pick a Hufflepuff. This is why I think Crouch Senior was willing to allow Aurors to use Unforgivables - it's not pretty but it's tactically good sense. In the books I get the impression that while Dumbledore, Harry, Remus, Hermione, Ron etc. aren't scared to fight they're reluctant to kill. Moody has no such hang ups.

Currently I intend to go at least as far as Halloween 1981 with this (a good 60 years of Moody throwing his weight around). It's now December 1917, by 1919/20 I'm hoping to move him to Ireland and involve him in the Irish War of Independance before sending him to fight Grindlewald in mainland Europe. Currently I have planned him into a mix of Magical and Muggle Wars on at least three continents.

**Reviews are - as always - appreciated.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Alastor Moody and the World of Magic**

**Chapter 9**

Those students who were going home for Christmas left on the Sunday before Christmas. Which this year was Sunday 23rd the day after the quidditch trials. Alastor spent the first hours of the journey sharing a compartment with Hector, Evander and Karlus. Thorgil had gone to spend some time appeasing the Rosiers. A few people dropped by to exchange Christmas presents although no one gave any to Alastor.

Evander and Hector had given him gifts earlier in the week and while he had excepted those he had asked them to explain to anyone who they knew was intending to get him something that he wasn't accepting Christmas presents since he couldn't give any in return. At around quarter to two Cynthia Bagman dropped by to get Hector, Evander and Alastor on her way to Quigley's end of term quidditch meeting.

Unwilling to stay by himself Karlus tagged along until they passed a compartment with Thorgil, the Rosier twins, Gavin Potter and Charlus Potter in it. Alastor gave Charlus a wave as Karlus went into the compartment. He hadn't seen much of the boy during the term since Hufflepuff had most of their classes with Ravenclaw.

The quidditch meeting was short and to the point. Quigley knew not everyone could practice at home so his instructions were "If you can practice, practice. If not spend an hour a day thinking about how to improve your game." He then proceeded to hand out a number of small books, each part of a series called _Developing your Quidditch: Positions and Roles_. While he handed them out he looked straight at Alastor, "These aren''t presents, these are your homework. Each one was picked to help you develop a specific style of play." Alastor flipped the book over to see the title on his, _The Offensive Beater_. On the seat opposite him Hector held up his and Evander's books, _Chasing – the Playmaker_ and _Chasing – the Defensive Game_.

The quidditch meeting lasted over an hour and when they were finally released Connor Kerwin was waiting for him in Charlus' compartment. Connor accompanied him back to his compartment.

"Father says he wants you to come the castle on St Stephen's Day [1], Catherine can come to if she wants but that's the day that the Abbott family has all the orphans over to their Manor in Somerset for a feast. You'll be traveling by portkey from the back yard of the orphanage at ten o'clock."

Connor broke the Kerwin seal of the scroll he was looking at before peering back down at it. "The seal is the portkey and it'll activate at exactly ten – be ready and be sure you're touching it. Will I leave you to change?"

Alastor nodded.

"Alright. See you in a few days then. Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!"

Alone in the compartment Alastor changed back into his muggle clothes, the orphanage was for magical children but it was visible to muggles and the orphans spent a lot of time in the muggle world, so they wore muggle clothes when not at Hogwarts. As the train pulled into the station he pulled on a shabby orphanage coat. He struggled to get his trunk down of the luggage rack and by the time he made it of the train Mr Carlton was waiting impatiently with Jim Peterson and two third years.

"Yer late Moody. Put your trunk on the trolley and hand over the wand."

Reluctantly Alastor pulled out his wand and gave it to Carlton, then lifted his trunk onto the luggage trolley. Outside Wellesley, the oldest orphan who didn't go to Hogwarts, waited with a cart and horse. Wellesley and Patterson piled the trunks in the back of the cart and they set off, the boys walking alongside the horse while Carlton drove the cart.

* * *

><p>Nervously Alastor checked his reflection in the orphanage's mirror and then glanced up at the grandfather clock by the stairway. About five too. He straightened his dress robes again. They were new and did fit as well as his school robes but Mrs Carlton had insisted he wear dress robes to the meeting so he had picked out a simple black set that was only slightly faded from the boxes of clothes people had donated to the orphanage for Christmas. After a last glance at the mirror he checked his pocket for the Kerwin seal and made his way down the stairs and out the back door.<p>

Everyone else had gone to the Abbot Estate after breakfast. For a few minutes he paced back and forth in front of the coal bunker holding the seal. Then, just as he heard the first ring of a nearby church bell, he felt like something was pulling him from inside his belly. The back of the orphanage seemed to blur away and a after a few seconds of wild spinning he found himself lying on his back in a muddy field, cold rain hitting his face as he looked up at a grey sky. Feeling slightly ill he shut his eyes and lay still waiting for his dizziness to pass. He heard something moving nearby and opened his eyes to find Connor looking down at him.

"Not the most pleasant way to travel, eh?"

"Give us a hand up, would ye Connor?"

Once he was on his feet Alastor peered over his shoulder, the back of his new robes was covered with mud.

"D'you know any cleaning charms?"

"Nope, we could ask Father though."

"The point was for the robes to be clean when I met him."

"What to make good impression? Sure the first time he met you you'd were wearing rags and the last time he met you you'd just nutted the Head Boy. He already knows you're a you're a dirty Dub that can't go a month without punching someone."

"You know I have a lot of restraint or I'd be punching someone once a day. In fact I have a list – which you've just made incidentally – and I limit myself to punching one person on it each month." Alastor responded.

"Haha, very funny. But if you punch me I'll hex you."

"I'll do my best to keep that in mind, where are we going anyway?"

"There."

"Where?"

"There."

"The castle?"

"Yep."

"You never told me you had a castle."

"You never asked. Besides we spent most of the summer in the Dublin house. Only Lords, Kerwins and people sworn to House Kerwin come here. We've had it for seven hundred years, when we came over with the Normans we needed it to keep your lot from making of with the women and cattle. It's called Ballincollig Castle [2], muggles can see it too but they only see ruins."

The castle gates swung open as they got close, letting them through the curtain wall into an enclosed area containing a few buildings some stables a hall and a keep built against the far wall. Connor led him into the Keep.

"Father wanted to talk to you upstairs when you arrived, he's in his study. Top floor, only door there is." He waved a hand towards the stairs.

"I ways serious about get cleaned up, Connor. My back is soaked through and these are new dress robes."

"Fine, just a second." Connor walked to the bottom of the stairs, took a deep breath and shouted. "Siobhan! Siobhan? Come downstairs."

With a quick grin Connor ran out of the Keep. It took about a minute before Connor's older sister to come down the stairs. "Oh, Alastor! Nice to see you again. How's school going, expelled anymore Head Boys yet?"

"Does everyone know about that? And no I haven't also I'm supposed to go and see your father, but well . . ." He turned around and waved a hand over his shoulder.

"Ah, I see. Hold still. Scourgify – scourgify! That's most of the mud gone. Siccare!" Alastor shivered at the unusual sensation of all the moisture being drawn out of his robes.

"Right, we'll catch up later then?"

"Yes. Thanks Siobhan!"

Quickly Alastor made his way to the top of the tower and knocked on the wooden door at the top of the steps. "Come in." He opened the door and found Lord Kerwin facing away from him as looked out a window.

"Mr Moody?"

"Yes, sir."

Lord Kerwin turned around as Alastor seated himself at the large wooden desk. "Would you like a drink Mr Moody? There's milk, stout and ale."

"Stout please sir. Can't get it at Hogwarts."

"Sammy!" A house-elf popped into the room.

"Send up two stouts, please" The elf popped back out and Kerwin seated himself opposite Alastor. "We two things to talk about today Mr Moody. First a family matter, your family that is. You had an older brother, correct?"

"Yes, sir. Also called Connor, actually. Died in the war. In France."

"Right, well a month or so ago it came to my attention that someone had been making enquiries about you in Church Street, I had someone there in case the Carrows started rooting around after the Black incident. Eventually I had my man talk to the enquirer."

Two tankards appeared on the table. "Excellent, here are the drinks. Sláinte [3], Mr Moody!" Lord Kerwin took a sip from his tankard. "Made by our own brewer, Cormac. He grew up at the Harold Abbott Home as well actually. He's a squib though." He took another gulp from his tankard – this time it left a line of froth on his moustache.

"Anyway, this man he was a veteran. A few weeks back from France and newly discharged. He was looking for you because your brother left him his last effects with a request he pass some items on to you." He wiped the froth from his moustache.

"My man told him that a while after the death of you father you went to join your uncle in England. Then when your uncle died you returned and ended up in an orphanage here, where you spotted by a wealthy benefactor who agreed to foster you and send you to a boarding school due to your talents. I then corresponded with the man – Sergeant Byrne, he's called – myself and we agreed that I would bring you to Dublin to meet him on the afternoon of the 26th, if you agreed to the idea. Mr Moody?"

"I- um . . . I would would like that very much Lord Kerwin."

"Excellent, that brings us to the second matter. What do you think of the stout by the way?"

"It's very nice, sir." There was a pause as they both had a drink.

"Anyway. The second matter is your oath. Now if you wish I will release you from your oath once you come of age, since I accept that you were at the time of the oath, and now for that matter, unaware of it's full implications." He looked over at Alastor.

"In the meantime it makes little difference that you are bound by the oath, however I have decided that it would be beneficial to you, regardless of your choice, to undergo a certain amount of extra-curricular study. Sammy!" The elf popped back in. "Another stout, Mr Moody?"

"Yes please, sir." The elf popped out.

"Lunch will be at one so we have another two hours."

Two more tankards appeared and the empties faded away.

"As I said in the meantime extra learning will do you no harm although the training itself can wait until the summer. Today I want to explain to you more fully what being a sworn warrior of a Noble House entails and discuss the paths of extra study available to you."

Lord Kerwin started his new tankard.

"In the past a Lord would keep many sworn warriors, both magical and muggle, to enforce his law and protect his lands and interests. These days about half the keep one or two sworn warriors but the system of oath-bound warriors has been largely replaced by the militia system in these more peaceful times. Under the militia system a lord can call up all the his male vassal between the ages of twenty five and a hundred to form a militia in times of peril. The militia is led by the lord himself or by the lord's Captain; usually this role is taken by a son of the house or a sworn warrior – which is why many houses keep one or two warriors to act as Captain of the militia. Keeping up so far?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good so if you were House Kerwin's only warrior you would lead the militia should it ever be called upon. As a warrior your peacetime duties would consist of enforcing the law of the House when necessary and you might occasionally be called upon as champion of the house – to fight a duel for example. A mix between a police officer, a guard and a champion in times of peace and a leader and soldier in times of war. When a house had many warriors the lead warrior was called a Warlord and as the only warrior you would still have a right to that title."

Here he paused to pull some papers from a drawer.

"That covers the basic aspects of the sworn warrior system – oh wait, and your accommodation and sustenance are provided by the house. This extends to the point where warriors were entitled to have the first choice of food and the option of the last portion. Since the strength of the warriors is what guarded the lords they had priority at the table.[4]"

He took a few gulps from the tankard. "Ahh – I'll warrant there's not a better stout in Munster. Now I mentioned additional training. This list" he indicated the paper, "is a list of duelling styles, books and instructors. You may research the styles and then we will find you a suitable instructor for the summer."

He passed the list over to Alastor, who didn't bother looking at it. He was trying very hard not to jump with excitement – here was his opportunity. "With respect, Lord Kerwin, this may not be necessary."

"Oh, do explain Mr Moody."

"Well sir, during the term I found a book at Hogwarts. A book called – umm . . ." Alastor hesitated, remembering how he came by the book.

"Go on, Mr Moody." Kerwin's voice was soft and polite but it wasn't a request.

"Well, sir . . . I found a book from the Restricted Section. Not that I was in the Restricted Section." Alastor clarified quickly. "But I found the book in the main section and started flicking through it before I realised is was Restricted. The book was called _It's more than a Duel: A Review of Magical Combat _and was about traditional methods of wizarding combat, would it be possible to learn one of those, sir?" His voice rose hopefully towards the end.

Lord Kerwin stared at him for a few moments. "This book, it was by Sulla Flint, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, the Warlock of the Wales. Died nineteen years before I was born, you know. My grandfather saw him fight once. He used to speak of it for hours. The Battle of Monmouth, 1798, the Potters, Prewitts and Weasleys ambushed the Bulstrodes and Flints on while they were marching to help besiege the Crouchs in Essex."

Lord Kerwin's gazed into the distance as if watching the battle himself. "The Potter-Prewitt force hid in the Forest of Dean and attacked the Bulstrode-Flint army while they were setting up camp outside Monmouth. Took out all the Bulstrodes and half the Flints in the first two minutes. Sulla was the Warlord of Flint but he was young and had only just returned from a journey to Mongolia. No one knew how good he was. At one point he was outnumbered twenty to one, he was the last man of his side left standing. Sword in one hand, wand in the other – he took out six Potters and eight Weasleys before they retreated."

His eyes flicked back to Alastor. He gave small smile and a look best described as hunger flickered across his features.

"Yes. Yes, Mr Moody. I can get a copy of Flint's book and at the very least I can get a Druid to train you. Maybe a Norse mage as well. And can't promise more than that, and with this sort of thing a book just isn't enough but I'll do what I can. You'll be the only real Warlock in the British Isles Mr Moody – maybe in Europe. Not even the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot is a proper Warlock anymore."

For the first time Alastor saw the Lord of House Kerwin grin. It sent a shiver down his spine.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**[1] **This is what the day after Christmas (Boxing Day in the UK) is called in Ireland.

**[2] **Ballincollig Castle is a real Norman Castle in Ballincollig, County Cork. It's mostly ruins but there are pictures if you google it.

**[3]** Sláinte if Irish and Scottish Gaelic for health and replaces cheers as a toast. In this case Kerwin is using it as a mark of respect to Moody since he is Hiberno-Norman - more English, Franch and Norse than Irish. I made another reference to this earlier when Connor Óg says that the Kerwins needed a castle to keep Alastor's lot (the native Irish) out.

**[4]** This custom of letting the sworn warriors have first choice of food (not as a test for poison but so they have their own choice of cut from whole roast animals) and offering them the last portion is based loosely on Anglo-Saxon and Norse customs for Huskarls (sworn household warriors). This tradition is one of the possible reasons why the British Yeoman of the Guard are nicknamed Beefeaters - they had the right to eat as much beef as they wanted from the King's own table.

**On the Consumption of Alcohol:**

This is the second or third time I've had 10-11 year old children drink. I am not advocating underage drinking. This is based on three things:

1. Until filtered tap water was available clean water had to be boiled (tea & coffee) or have something to clean it (hops have anti-bacterial properties making beer a safe drink). Even when water was going to be consumed something would be added so it didn't taste terrible (the Romans gave soldiers water mixed with spices and low quality wine that was partially turned to vinegar). The Wizarding World tends to be slower then the muggle world technologically so they still have the same drinking habits as 100 years earlier.

2. Wizards and witches are more easily able to respond to physical damage because magic helps mend non-magical damage. They don't get normal illnesses, they can take more physical punishment (they can be smashed into walls by spells and get up, or fall from brooms and just break a wrist) and so they can deal with stuff like liver and lung damage so they can smoke or drink without the normal risks. This also means that while 11 year olds can get drunk or hung-over (not that wizarding society encourages this - beer is just a choice of drink like juice or coca cola) they wouldn't suffer the same damage that regular alcohol consumption (2-3 pints a day) would cause a normal child. In case anyone considers that quantity excessive I would point out that labourers used to drink be given 10 pints (5.7 litres) during their working day.

3. I am having a few pints of particularly good stout while I write this chapet - and author's note.

**Lord Kerwin:**

Don't worry he isn't evil - he's neutral. I model him on a mix between Roose Bolton from Game of Thrones and my old Headmaster. However while Roose was a treacherous bastard (spoiler there by the way) Lord Kerwin just has slightly similar mannerisms. Roose is the snake, Kerwin is the fox.

**Response to Hectorsmom's review:**

Thank you very much. In terms of the houses I think people focus on the negatives of Slytherin and the positives of everyone else. Slytherin's are ambitous but somehow that always comes out as a negative. Taking a look at a more negative interpretation of the other houses: Gryffindors are the shoot first, questions later type. Hufflepuffs I've already done and Ravenclaws. Well Ravenclaws could be considered somewhat amoral - there were amazing advances and fascinating research carried out in Nazi concentration camps, by men who were clearly highly intelligent. Ravenclaws will just do their stuff whether it's under the Nazis or someone harmless, they just want to find stuff out.

This was quite a long chapter with a lot of talking but such is life, action is short and quick, everything else is not. Also there is much information that is important to the story line and Moody can't just 'know' it all of sudden he needs to be told it, read it or figure it out. **Please read and review.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Alastor Moody and the World of Magic**

**Chapter 10**

He found Connor outside the Keep kicking a football around. He hadn't told Connor about the oath so Alastor just said that Lord Kerwin had wanted to speak about the Black incident. Connor introduced him to the other boys, who were mainly squibs who lived in the castle or in Ballincollig village and whose families were sworn to the Kerwins.

They kicked the ball around the courtyard, which they told Alastor was called a bailey, until they got kicked out of the castle entirely for getting in the cooks way. They kicked the played a game of football that descended into rugby very quickly and ended with Siobhan recasting her cleaning and drying charms before they were let into the Hall.

The Hall here was nothing like Hogwart's Great Hall. The Hall was a long rectangular building with stone walls and a thatcher roof that was barely visible through the smoke of the fires. The middle of the Hall was flat and had tables arranged in an 'n' shape with the open end facing the doors. The back of the 'n' was the shortest table and had a throne-like wooden chair in the middle, with a fireplace behind it and the Kerwin coat of arms on the wall above it.

The central area between the tables was taken up by an open fire, with an ox roasting above it. Behind the tables on the left and right long raised platforms ran the length of the Hall with smaller tables and chairs arranged on them. Connor prodded Alastor in the back as he stopped in the doorway.

"Whenever you're read, Alastor, the rest of us would like a feast."

He stood aside and let Connor through, before following him to take a seat at the back table, two spaces to the right of Lord Kerwin's seat. The Hall went silent and everyone stood as the Lord arrived. Rather than seat himself he stood before his chair and intoned in a loud, slow voice.

_Li nostre Pere, qui ies es ciels, _

_saintefiez seit li tuens nums; _

_avienget li tuns regnes. _

_Seit faite la tue voluntet, _

_sicum en ciel e en la terre. _

_Nostre pain cotidian dun a nus oi. _

_E pardune a nus les noz detes, _

_eissi cume nus pardunums a noz deturs. _

_E ne nus mener en temtatiun, _

_mais delivre nus de mal. _

_Amen._

Though the language was unfamiliar Alastor was easily able to recognise this as a Christian prayer. Once Lord Kerwin seated himself a man cut slices from the spit roast ox until he had filled his tray, then he approached the tables and placed the tray in front of Lord Kerwin. Lord Kerwin stood and placed the tray in front of Alastor. Realising that this was part of the traditions involving sworn warriors Lord Kerwin had outlined Alastor helped himself to a slice of beef and thanked Lord Kerwin.

Lord Kerwin seated himself and then food appeared on all the tables. Before he could start helping himself to the food spread out in front of him Connor started jabbing him in the arm.

"What was that? Why did he give you food first? Normally that's only for sworn men."

"Yes."

"Yes! Yes, what?"

"I am a sworn warrior in the service of House Kerwin."

Alastor watched for a few seconds as Connor's mouth opened and shut noiselessly before returning to his food.

"I didn't know wizards had religion?"

Lord Kerwin overheard the question.

"We don't. it dates to our Norman origins. The Normans were Vikings who settled in France. They were lead by a leader called Ganger Hrólfr, or Ralph the Walker [2]."

Connor was fidgeting between the two of them.

"Why was he called 'the Walker', son?"

Connor's head jumped up and he hesitated.

"Umm . . . he was too big to ride a horse, Father. So he had to walk everywhere."

"Correct. Hrolfr was part of an army of Vikings who besieged Paris in 885 AD. Later in 911 AD he led his own force against the French a second time. Eventually this led to a Treaty of peace in the same year. Hrolfr was given Normandy but in return he swore allegiance to the King of France and took the Christian name Rollo. This included forcing the Viking Holy Men to convert."

Lord Kerwin paused as someone came around serving ale and wine.

"Wizards and witches often used the role of priest or shaman to allow them to use magic more openly. Our ancestor was with Rollo disguised as a priest of Odin. When the Norse Holy Men were made to swear an oath to convert to Christianity those who were wizards were forced to convert. We cannot be forced to believe in their God but to not make some gesture of worship would bring a form of cursed bad luck on the family [3]. On a few occasions every year we say prayers in old Norman."

* * *

><p>The feast proceeded for an hour or two more before people drifted away from the eating tables to drink, talk, play and – in at least one case – nap on the raised platforms at the sides of the hall. Alastor was beginning to feel his face heat up slightly from the wine when Lord Kerwin came over to him.<p>

"Mr Moody, prepare yourself. We leave for Dublin in five minutes."

He spent a few minutes saying goodbye to Connor, Siobhan and a number of other subjects of House Kerwin he had met before he headed up to Lord Kerwin's study. From there they flooed to a wizarding pub, called MacMurrough's, on O'Connell Street. As they stepped out of the pub Alastor felt a wave of sadness wash over him.

After living in the middle of London and out in the Highlands surrounding Hogwarts he had found places had different smells. London reeked of smoke and sewage, Hogwarts smelt clean but wet and rainy. But Dublin . . . Dublin smelt like home and he could recognise every little smell. The hint of salt from the sea, the damp of the River Liffey, the smoke of the houses and the reek of people all around. He inhaled deeply. He heard a snort to behind him and glanced back. Lord Kerwin wore an expression of distaste as he coughed slightly at the smell.

"Where are we meeting Byrne?"

"Sergeant Byrne is meeting us at four o'clock in Slattery's Public House on Capel Street. Not too far from where you used to live."

"I know it sir. Not more than ten minutes walk."

They walked in silence, Kerwin following Alastor's lead. The pub was much as he remembered it and he trailed slightly behind the older man in case he was recognised. The bartender pointed Lord Kerwin to a booth at the back.

"Mr Kerwin, a pleasure to see you again. And you must be Al?"

Sergeant Byrne was broad and dark haired. The bottom of his left cheek was scarred and his jaw receded inwards giving his face a melted look.

"_Alastor_ Moody, sir."

"Sorry, Mr Moody. Never met ye before but Connor always called ye that."

"I'm sorry sir. Only a few people call me that. You can call me Al – or Alastor, sir."

"Grand. Alastor it is. Ye can call me Tommy."

Alastor sat down opposite Byrne and Kerwin excused himself to get drinks.

"Did you know my brother well sir?"

"I did indeed. Wasn't in the same unit mind. He was with the Dubs, I was with the Munster Fusiliers. He got mixed up into our unit during the Somme in April last year – that's where I got this."

He waved a hand at his face.

"Connor wrapped up me face and carried me back during one of the retreats. Afterward the Somme there was so few of us left they combined us into a temporary unit. I got shoulder wound in July and he ended up in the bed next to me about two weeks later. We used to say he'd follow me anywhere."

Lord Kerwin returned with a pint and a half pint for the pair of them before heading back out to the bar.

"I was laid up with him 'til the end. He was on the mend – we both were. Then the infection got him. I was with him until the end. Back at the front two weeks later and then got this - "

He tapped his leg and Alastor heard a metal clank.

"In October this year. Sent me home."

The soldier pulled a bundle up from the bench beside him.

"Been awhile looking for you. These were some of Jimmy's things he wanted you to have. He gave them to me at the . . . towards the end. When he knew he wasn't coming home. It's not much honestly. A couple of books, his coat and his cap. Although he mangled his cap and sowed it onto his coat arm. Nationalist see?"

Alastor nodded and pulled the bundle across the table.

"What do you do Tommy. You're not from here?"

"And thanks be to Jesus. No I'm from Cork sure. Not sure I'm goin' back though. I was a cooper see, but with the new leg . . ."

"Maybe you could work for Mr Kerwin. A lot of people work for him."

Alastor blurted out before he could stop himself. He blushed.

"I'm not sure you'd be in a position to go around handing out jobs there, boyo." Tommy winked at him. "Still nice to be thought about."

* * *

><p>Later that night Alastor sat on his bed at the orphanage. The boys were sleeping but he the light from the hallway fell onto his bed. Next to him was the bundle Sergeant Byrne had given him, it was wrapped in a rolled up piece of khaki cloth and secured with string. He'd asked Kerwin if he could give him a job and Kerwin said he'd look into it. Slowly, so he didn't wake the other boys he untied the string that held the bundle together and slid something out of the middle.<p>

Two thin books. Tilting them he saw one was a leaflet by Jim Larkin from when Connor had been involved in the strikes and the Lock-Out, and one by James Connolly. Opening the second one he saw an inscription from his father, dated a month or two before the Easter Rising. He slid the books under his bed and unrolled the material. He spread it along the length of the bed.

It was an infantry great coat. Slightly faded and with a good few patches. As he began to fold it the left arm caught the light and he saw a ragged band of blue. Holding it up into the light from the hallway he saw that it was a Dublin Fusilier's cap roughly sown on to the upper sleeve of the coat and stained dark brown around the newest looking patch. Quietly he lifted the coat over his shoulders and curled up beneath it to sleep.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**[1] **A Norman translation of the Lord's Prayer.

**[2] **This is one of two possible historical candidates for Rollo of Normandy. The other is a Dane. Dates and events are true.

**[3] **It was common enough for people to swear oaths like this. Several Vikings are known to have sworn this sort of oath but usually went back on it as soon as convenient. For witches and wizards magic seals and binds them to their oaths. So the descendants of the Normans either have to break the curses or pay lip service to Christianity.

**Locations:**

Excluding the wizarding pubs such as MacMurrough's I try to use real locations. This includes the Church Street Slums, Slattery's Bar and all the pubs, stations and streets mentioned in Liverpool and London. Feel free to follow Moody on Google Earth.

**Connor Moody's Last Effects:**

The coat left to Alastor is the 1914 pattern single-breasted British Infantry Greatcoat. I wanted him to have some sort of connection to his brother. I chose the greatcoat because (if you google it) it can be worn in the Wizarding World and look similar enough to robes.

The blue band/cap is significant because when the Citizen Army fought in the Easter Rising there was a scarcity of uniforms so men wore blue armbands for identification. While feelings about the Rising were mixed, many Dublin men who joined the British Army at the start of the war had been involved in the lead up (strikes, Lock-Out, etc.) and joined because they were black-listed. So it would not be entirely uncommon to have soldiers fighting in WWI who would have (or later did) support Irish Independance.

At this point I would like to emphasize that political or religious views expressed in this and related stories are opinions of characters that may or may not match my own views - I try and include all realistic view points for characters. **Please read and review.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Alastor Moody and the World of Magic**

**Chapter 11**

A shrill whistle rang in his ears as he leaned down to hug Cathy.

"Stay safe. And hold on to Da's book." He whispered down.

"Promise you'll write?"

"Of course." The whistle sounded again. After a quick squeeze he turned to Mr Carlton.

"My wand please sir."

"Just a second Moody."

The man fumbled through a bag before holding out the familiar length of wood. As soon as it was returned to him Alastor felt warmth course through his body. Like finding something he didn't realise he had been missing. Feeling uplifted he grabbed his trunk and, with a last wave to Cathy, he boarded the Hogwarts Express. He wandered down the train until he was spotted by Quigley who pointed him to most of a compartment with a few of the Hufflepuff First Years a reminder to go to the quidditch meeting at four.

The compartment was crowded and noisy the more subdued atmosphere of the orphanage. After saying his hellos he settled into a corner and listened to the other boys from his dormitory talk about their Christmas presents. The now familiar journey passed uneventfully, assuming he didn't count two hours of borderline violent quidditch talk as eventful.

After the meeting broke up he chatted with Cynthia Bagman and Hadrianus Jones, the second string seeker who he'd helped with his trick shot during the trials. As the train began to slow he headed through the cars looking for Connor Óg. He found Connor with Potter and Homer Slughorn, a Ravenclaw. This time they made the journey from the station in carriages drawn by skeletal horses Slughorn said were called thestrals. As they left the carriage Connor pulled him back behind the other.

"Father, gave me this for you." He held out a package. "It's not the one you wanted but he said you'll need this before you have a chance of studying what you want to. The other one is going to take a few months at least. Also he suggests we keep your position from become common knowledge."

"I'm guessin' that was the message word for word."

"It was."

"Yes, '_keep your position from become common knowledge'_ is more eloquent than you usually are. Secrecy is fine by me."

"Right. Shall we? . . . Wouldn't want to miss dinner now."

The food was good but Alastor found himself comparing it unfavourably to the Kerwin's winter feast. One of the boys who lived in the Kerwin Castle had been the cook's son and apprentice. The boy had taken great pride in explaining why house elves weren't truly able cooks and why most wealthy households employed squib cooks. Since elves weren't human they had different tastes and taste buds so they couldn't cook on the go – they just followed recipes to the letter.

While the food had been the best he'd had after his upbringing now that it had been pointed out he could taste a certain blandness in the Hogwarts food. Still he ate his fill and then followed everyone back to Hufflepuff. A few of the older students made themselves comfortable around one of the tables and were having a drink but most students headed to bed. Alastor just took of his shoes off and collapsed onto the bed.

He woke early in the morning and found the package from Lord Kerwin next to his shoes below the bed. He pulled of his robes and dropped them on the bed before opening the parcel. Inside there was a thin paperback book. The cover had two titles – Alastor couldn't read the top one – but the lower title read _The Irish Language for Learners_. He opened the cover and found a piece of parchment inside.

_Mr Moody,_

_ My contacts have made some progress in locating a copy of your book. They have located a copy in the Republic of New Amsterdam, I have approached the owner and am awaiting his response. In the mean time you should study this as much as you can. I have a cordial relationship with a powerful druid and he has agreed to teach you during the summer, however he speaks no English and will be teaching you in Irish._

_Best Regards_

_Connor Mór, Lord Kerwin_

He put down the note and he watched it crumble into ash, then went over to his trunk and rummaged around until he found his schedule. Looking over it he pencilled in four hours to study Irish each week. Quigley was studying Druidic Magic so he could probably work with him to. Alastor placed the book on his chest of drawers before getting ready for the days classes.

* * *

><p>The term had dragged on uneventfully and with his packed schedule Alastor had barely had any free time and had returned the library copy of Flint's book. Between classes, Irish and his club activities he only really socialised at mealtimes. He had started studying with Connor and a group of Ravenclaws in the Library and Cíaran Quigley now only spoke to him in Irish – initially causing a great deal of confusion on the quidditch pitch.<p>

Still Alastor was taking more satisfaction from his learning than he had before, in particular his duelling. Within Hufflepuff he was considered the most promising dueller of the younger years – he had begun to take on Hector and Evander combined during practice sessions. Outside of his House only Connor knew the full extent of his abilities and had advised him to keep them hidden. In the Hogwarts's duelling club he held back enough that he was only barely beating the rest of the first year students.

He stabbed at his porridge with his spoon while the Hufflepuffs chattered around him.

"Cheer up Al! You know you'll batter him!"

"Thanks Dawlish. It's just me nerves."

Jeffrey Dawlish was yet another Hufflepuff who had spent breakfast trying to 'cheer him up'. Only Hector had understood that Alastor's real problem was reigning in his temper so he didn't do his opponent any permanent damage. This morning was the second semi-final bout of the First Year Duelling Championship. The winner would go on to face Regulus Black.

His opponent was Ernest Rosier and Alastor was doing his very best to make sure that he was calm enough not to cast anything to harmful. Aside from his area of the Hufflepuff table the Great Hall was more or less empty and his porridge had been cold for at least an hour. A bell struck ten in one of the towers and the food faded from the tables. Alastor and the Hufflepuff First Years were joined by the Ravenclaws and waited by the main doors of the Great Hall while the Professors and Seventh Years rearranged the furniture.

All the tables were pushed back against the walls and the benches rearranged in rows facing the dais where the Staff Table normally was. The dais was then warded by Professor Prince and the Arithmancy teacher, Professor Cinncinatus. It was almost one o'clock when all set up and the seats filled. Alastor waited at one end of the dais with a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws while Rosier sat with some Slytherins. Once the preparations were complete Professor Bagman shouted for quite.

"Today the Semi-Finals of the First Year Duelling Championships will take place. Please put your hands together for Ernest Rosier of Slytherin and Alastor Moody of Hufflepuff!"

Bagman paused for applause. "The rules are the same as in the previous bouts. You may disarm your opponent or force them from the duelling platform. No spells causing harm may be cast and physical contact is forbidden. Ready!"

Bagman waved his wand and a number five appeared in the air between Alastor and Rosier.

Time seemed to slow as the conjured numbers contorted through the countdown. Alastor ran over his arsenal of spells in his mind. At three he looked up and saw Rosier staring at him, eyes full of anger and his mouth moving silently. There was a bang signalling the start of the duel and Alastor sprang to his right.

Seconds later Rosier's spell flashed past him. Moving back into the centre of the platform he raised a shield in front of him and watched Rosier's next to spells splash harmlessly against it, the third spell sent a white sphere towards him. His shield still up Alastor didn't bother dodging and was taken by surprise when the ball came through the shield and hit his left shoulder.

He took a step back to brace himself after the impact and raised a new shield before Rosier could cast again. Feeling cold seep through his robes he glanced at his shoulder and realised that the sphere was a snow ball. For a few more moments he stayed defensive, shielding spells he recognised and dodsging those he didn't. When he saw Rosier begin to pant a bit he dropped his shield.

"Apis! Apis! Apis!"

He sent three white beams shooting towards Rosier who dodged left and got hit by the second spell. From watching the previous duels he knew Rosier relied on the number of spells he knew, but the greater variety meant his spells had longer incantations and required more thought. Sticking to a spell he had chosen because of its short incantation Alastor sent another spread three stinging hexes towards his opponent forcing him to raise a shield.

Slowly he walked towards Rosier sending enough stinging hexes forcing him keep his shield up. Alastor was now halfway down the duelling platform and Rosier's eyes were darting nervously from side to side. One things Alastor had learnt about wizards was that they didn't like it when you closed the distance. The closer you got the less reaction time your opponent had. Alastor kept his eyes fixed on Rosier's as he approached. Any second now he knew Rosier would panic enough to drop his shield and try and go on the offensive.

Sure enough when he was a little over fifteen feet away he saw Rosier's eyes flick towards him. Instantly he dropped to one knee and Rosier's spell passed over his head, almost simultaneously he cast a disarming spell and sprang from his crouch to catch Rosier's wand.

Not really paying attention as Bagman called the result Alastor jumped of the platform and was surrounded by a group of Hufflepuff's who began shouting congratulations as they headed towards the Common Room. A little less than halfway there Professor Prince came striding up behind them.

"Mr Moody! Come with me!"

With a shrug to his fellow Hufflepuffs he turned back and caught up with the Professor. The professor walked quickly along the Hallways until they reached the door to the Headmaster's Office, Alastor struggling to keep up. As soon as they entered the room the Deputy Headmaster turned to look at him.

"I have some bad news Mr Moody. Early this morning there was a fire at the Harold Abbott Home." Prince swallowed nervously and looked away.

"The fire started in the Girl's Dormitory . . . My condolences for your loss Mr Moody."

His heart pounding in his ear Alastor sank down against the wall. He didn't for how long but suddenly he became aware that Prince was still talking to him.

". . . just a precaution mind you, but Lord Kerwin was very clear you are to floo to the Kerwin's London residence as soon as possible. Your belonging will be sent as soon as possible, alright?"

There was a pause and the Professor leaned down over him. "Do you understand Mr Moody?"

Alastor looked up at Prince, his voice think with grief.

"Yes, sir. Can I say goodbye to my friends?"

"I'm afraid not Mr Moody. Lord Kerwin was very clear, you're to leave as soon as possible."

**The End**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Sorry about the long delay, many deadlines and all that sort of thing.

This chapter may seem a bit abrupt and I may come back and flesh it out at some point. The reason it may be a bit rushed is simply that this is really just a prologue/prequel to the proper stuff. I'm not particularly good or interested in righting a great deal about children at school so it won't really start getting interesting until Moody's done with school. Anyway sequel should be up soon and be a little longer.

**Please read & review.  
><strong>

**The first part of the sequel '_Alastor Moody and the Druid Rising_' is now up.**


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